Ok to monetize, but don't paywall. Links to the previous parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7. Content warning for mentions of violence, death, and murder. You know, organized crime shit. Anyway shit's about to hit the fan in part 9
[Jackdaw]
You're gonna have to talk to me at some point, pretty boy. May as well talk now.
…
(Fake shiver)
Such an icy glare. But I know there's still some warmth for me in there. Right, pretty boy?
…
(Annoyed)
Don't pretend you didn't know what you were getting into, dating a gangster. You knew and you liked it. So why is it that you're so fucking pissed off now?!
…
Yeah, I know I seriously hurt that creep. He's not the first and he won't be the last.
…
He was saying some horrible shit to you. Now, if he was badmouthing me? I can let that slide. But nobody is allowed to talk shit on anything of mine.
…
(Even more annoyed, almost angry)
I thought you liked that I'm possessive. You can't take issue with it now that I actually showed you what happens when you mess with someone under the Crow Tengu's protection. He's lucky I didn't drown his ass in the fucking arctic.
…
What's a few fingers to a zombie?! He can just get new ones sewn on anyway.
…
And an arm. Sure. Whatever. It's not like he can't get a new one.
…
It was about making an example. It was about pain.
…
If you don't want to be with me, fine. But I hate this fucking self-righteous bullshit you've got going on right now.
…
What? You think I don't care about you? You think I ain't upset that you might leave me?
…
You take that back, pretty boy.
…
(He sounds like he might cry)
I said take it back!
…
I love you, pretty boy. Don't you fucking claim otherwise. I… I…
I…
…
Fuck. What am I doing?
…
I just… That zombie was saying so much shit about you and I couldn't take it. I couldn't. I had to defend your honor. That's how a gangster is supposed to act when someone wrongs their partner.
…
You're the best person in my fucking life, pretty boy. I don't want to lose you, but… I guess I probably just did, didn't I?
…
(He sniffles)
I'm sorry I got you in trouble. I'm sorry if I went too far. I… I'm sorry. I'm just…
…
(Solemnly)
I ain't a good person. You knew that before we got together. The Crow Tengu Gang ain't just some club. We've hurt people. A lot of people. Some of them deserve it. Most of them probably don't. That's how it is with organized crime. I shake folks down and I maim and I even kill sometimes.
If that's a dealbreaker, then… Well, I'm sorry I didn't make it more obvious ahead of time. I… I don't want you to leave me, but…
…
I love you, okay? I want you to be safe, even if you can't love me anymore. That's… It won't be fine, but I'll manage. I still want to grant you my gang's protection, but after this, I understand if you ain't want it.
…
A'ight. I'll let my boys know not to worry about defending you.
…
I won't ask for another chance. I ain't gonna stop being who and what I am. Not even for you. Leaving the Tengus would mean more than just leaving the family I've made for myself. I swore to lead my boys for as long as I live, and if I back down, my wings'll be clipped. Magical oath.
…
(Intensely)
You mean a lot to me, but we ain't even known each other for more than a few months. I'm ain't gonna throw my life away for you. I'm a gangster through and through. I ain't giving that up.
…
It's up to you. Do you still want to be mine? I know I said I won't change, but I'll respect your wishes when it comes to how I express my love.
…
(He sighs in relief)
I really didn't know if you would say yes. I'm glad you're willing to accept me as I am.
…
(Affectionately)
Look. You're the best thing about this damned school, pretty boy. I ain't had a lot of good things happen here.
…
You really wanna know?
…
(Calmly, but bitterly)
Jay, my little brother, is dead. He was only in his first year here. And it's my fault. I sent him to shake down a tanuki for cash. I didn't think they'd be packing a stash of human weapons, much less a fucking gun.
…
Jay was too good for our line of work, but he insisted on swearing that same oath I did. And he's gone now.
…
No one is allowed to be assigned Jay's room. His roommate is dead anyway.
…
No, we didn't do that. He died long before I was even an egg. He's a ghost. Still haunts that dorm. Jay fucking loved that loser.
…
No idea who he was. Never met him, and he ain't no poltergeist, so… no sound. Jay never knew his name, but that never mattered to him. Jay was… He loved so easily.
…
Poltergeist literally means "noisy ghost." I think it's German or something. I don't know or care.
…
Keet visits Jay's dorm every so often. Keeps the ghost company. He says the ghost wants to be alone most of the time, now that Jay's gone.
…
I wish I was strong enough to go there, but… All his stuff is still in there.
…
It's been three years. Almost four, actually.
…
No. I'm not trying to make you pity me. Pity ain't something I need, want, or deserve. I'm just… You deserve to understand why it scares me to love you so fucking much, why I acted the way I did, and why I'm so possessive.
…
(Cocky and flirty)
I ain't afraid of intimacy. I'm afraid of losing you. Got that, pretty boy? So don't you fucking die on me.
…
Now how's about we ditch this joint? Fuck detention. Ain't like anyone's watching us.

Hello there! Brace for my long introduction! ❤️
┇ Don’t interact with me if: - You don't think depression, anxiety and ADHD etc. is real. - You don't think poly people can be loyal and are insert slurs - You are extremist in any political sense.
╭・ Age: 24 ┇ Gender: Female ┇ Location: Sweden 🇸🇪
┇ Likes: Cute things, listening to music and podcasts, chatting with people, some Pokémon stuff, talk about deep topics. ┇ Dislikes: Unnecessary hostility and toxicity, people accusing me of stuff I didn't do, raw tomatoes, I have trypophobia and mosquito phobia, one word conversations, anything that is disturbing and illegal at the same time. ┇ Music taste: Classical, some country, dance pop, some rock, vocaloid, power metal, pretty much everything but gangster hip hop and blues. ┇ Hobbies: Gaming, singing, watching TV-shows + anime, hoarding images (Pinterest and similar) I’m boring.
┇ Personality: I can come off as toxic and annoying, but I can be really sweet once you get on my good side. Everyone doesn't click and so be it. I try to be friendly with everyone! ┇ “Fun" facts about me: I'm not the blonde, blue eyed hot Swedish girl you think I am. I have incredible mood swings. Not as smart as I think I am. 🥹 ╰・Literally just ask me anything, don't be shy but also don't assume stuff.

HOW DO I (16f) GET GUYS IN REAL LIFE! I really really want a boyfriend in real life. For the past few years I’ve been online dating thinking it would last. And I’m REALLY EXTREMELY tired because I’m really clingy and wanna do a lot with my with my boyfriend even lose my virginity, (I LIKE HOW AM I GOING TO DO THAT THROUGH A SCREEN) but more of cuddling and being touchy. Sex is the last thing that I want but I’m really really quiet and shy in person and I don’t speak unless I’m spoken to and just really anxious in person like I saw this group of guys who were really cute and my type I just froze like I didn’t even breath until they walked passed and I get really scared to talk to guys especially to the guys that I’m into because I’m dark skinned (Jamaican and Nigerian) and I don’t know if they are going to be racist or if their family is going to be racist because my ex had racist friends and family and I think he would even say the N-word but I don’t know about that and like also I live in Michigan and I don’t think people really socialize unless it’s with their group especially if they are like 16-19 (or 21👀) which is what I want in age range like ITS HARD TO FIND and please don’t say “just find someone at school” HELL NO EW NO they smell bad (extremely) , they sag their pants to the point you can see their boners, all they do is vape, only wanna fuck me because of my ass and they are loud and are basically wanna be gangsters and that’s a big ass huge ass HUMONGOUS ICK for me and if you were me you’ll understand like I want something long term like where we start off as friends and not to rush things because my last relationships started off sexual which fucking suck SO PLEASE HELP ME THX

Hey. First time posting but hopefully someone can help. This has been bugging me for years!
So I remember when my family first got the internet, it was a wild place. Lots of random websites with flash animation and dumb games. One such animation was a gangster parody in the style of the Simpsons. No Simpsons character actually appeared but the animation was clearly copying it.
One specific moment I remember clearly was parodying a bit from The Untouchables where a gangster is shouting ‘I want him dead, I want his family dead’ and his goon, looking through some photos replies with ‘What about his brother? He’s kinda cute’.
For some reason it keeps cracking me up. I understand this is extremely vague and may be lost to time, but if you can find it, I’d be very thankful!

To his next lover: I hope i never serve as a competition to you, because by the time you enter his life, i hope he has long forgotten my name and my presence, and every useless information that i had enlightened him with. But i hope that you will read the below and keep them in mind

At first, he may seem tough. Gym guy who looks fit, rbf and cuts hair for people. He wouldnt really smile, unless you see him alot around his friends. Otherwise, he would just float in the back ground and he wont speak until spoken to. But please be patient with him. Please take time to get to know him, let him take however long he needs to open up, and unleash his true personality. Let him tell his lame jokes, let him sound dumb and pretend like wtv he is talking about makes sense, let him be goofy and match his energy, let his go-with-the-flow mindset seep through his cracks and support them. He will never fail to surprise you with what hides underneath that gangster-like persona, so please dont give up on him As you get closer to him you will learn about stubbornness and slight laziness but also warmth and peace. He values love, but also his own space. Let him have space to think, space to do his own thing, space to relax. Give him time, but also be there for him when he needs. He may be hard to talk to sometimes but dont lash out on him, dont be mean. He may seem like he wont care but deep down he would keep thinking about it. Dont only let him be the therapist, help him. He doesnt really know how to ask for help and he isnt really used to getting it so please be patient, please try to put aside annoyance and anger. Listen to him, he values a listening ear alot. Rant to him, he likes knowing that he is trusted with insights that no one else knows about. He would keep your secrets, he would care. Show him you like him, flirt with him, drop cringey ass pick up lines from time to time, send corny jokes. Show him u care, pester him to tell you whats wrong, spam him when he doesnt reply within 3 miliseconds, if he likes you, he wont find u annoying at all. Tell him about your life, he would gladly be interested in what ur friends think about him and you tgt, he would constantly try to impress you, and all u have to do is be there to support him with any decision he makes. He has a strong work ethic, wtv he wants, he would work towards, he cares, so please care about the things he cares about, ask about his hobbies, and passions and watch his eyes light up or the endless graphics of "typing..." light up on your phone. Compliment him, boost his ego from time to time, he values specific compliments, especially on things he pays special attention to, compliment his cologne and hair. Spend time with him, his love language is quality time. He cares about spending time with you, he would squeeze in any time with u if he could. Plan dates, take turns, put in effort to go out with him, free ur time for him too. When u do go out, help him pick which hot wheels to get, pay special attention to the little details he talks about, he would be surprised when u bring it up casually after awhile. He doesnt expect ppl to remember the specks in his passing comments. Bring up things he hasnt talked about in a while, constantly try to know more about him as he could often forget to talk abt himself when hes busy listening to you. Please listen to him, he really needs it sometimes. Help him take pictures, even when hes not looking or whip out ur phone to take selfies with him use goofy filter on them. He would help u take pics too, and he would sneak pics when he thinks that ure not looking. Send telebubbles, send snaps, be his new bff on snapchat. Pester him, spam him, he likes all these things. Its not annoying to him, he would pester you with shit like this too. Spam him with tiktoks, so he knows that uve been thinking of him. Each tt he sends also is v impt to him. Its also kinda his love language and he sends them to u cus he genuinely thinks of you. Do corny shit with him. Match pfps, take videos, do cute tiktoks about him. Dont be afraid to show him off. Don't purposely hide his existence away from the world, at least let the world know that there is a guy u like in ur life, blur his face out and post him. he will tell his mom about u and constantly update her and ask for advice. He would post u on his cfl. He will want to wear ur initial on his wrist and put u as his wallpaper. His go-to focus mode will even be ur initial. He would match ur ig notes, he will constantly reply to ur stories. He cares, care for him too. Accept his acts of service and gifts. Dont turn them down if u can. When u do he feels hurt and rejected, but please dont always let him pay. He would constantly get small gifts for u and rmb the littlest things that you talked about or posted online. He would get it for u if it is within his means. Please dont take advantage of him. Let him walk u home, or he would get out of the train impulsively just before the doors close after uve already gotten off awhile ago, he will then call u and ask if he could walk u home. Dab him up before going into ur house, or sneak in the hug that i never had the courage to. He is kind and has a good heart. Please be gentle with him, he is in fact a softie. Initiate. He also likes physical touch, but dont make it awkward. Secret hand shakes, knees touching in the movie theatre, or shoulders brushing against one another. He appreciates it. He wont for the life of him express that he likes corny stuff but trust me he does. Also show him love through acts of service. Help him hold his wallet when his hands are full, and when hes so nervous to go out with u till he cant walk, guide him by tugging onto the back of his nike backpack. Take "private but not secret" pics of him, "softlaunch" him, show him off even if its privately. He probably brings along a sweater for you, so purposely dont bring urs to the movie theatre. Purposely shiver and let him ask u if ure cold. Say yes and let him offer u his sweater. Appreciate him. He is very thoughtful, he would help u take ur food, and would refuse to eat his food before ur food arrived. He would take utensils for you, and help u pick out ur bowling shoe size. If ure terrible at bowling dont worry, he would encourage u and clap for you even if u lose terribly. Dont be fooled, he would use ur terrible techniques against u eventually and tease u abt it. He would offer u mints, and would bring along a sweater that he never uses. He is always complaining about heat, bring a portable fan every time u go out and shove it in his face when he complains to shut him up. He plans dope dates, let him. He walks you home after every date. He would send u private guitar covers and give u his guitar picks. He would even fight sleep demons to stay up just to keep u company late at night. Please support him in anything he does. U can give ur opinions but remind him to prioritise his own. Let him talk about his passions, and go to the church events he invites u to. Be open minded about religions and accept christ if you are willing, dont walking into this if ure unwilling to convert. Religion if very important to him and he prioritises it, so please think properly and dont go into this if you wont do it, dont be like me. Support him in hobbies and goals, wish him good luck in every football match, big or small, congratulate him on his business occasionally, every cut that he does matters to him. He has come a long way. Please be proud of him. 

Vanderpump Rules is a hilarious comedy about what happens when attractive people are accidentally ensnared in Lisa Vanderpump’s tacky trap, and drown under the weight of her cast-off pink flowers. The first season was basically perfect reality tv, and after endless rounds of weird slap-fights and short-term marriages, it appeared to be down to its dying embers, until an unscheduled cheating scandal allowed the show to rise like the phoenix tattoo from Ben Affleck’s back.
“Look, I had a problem with alcohol,” Ben wishes we’d quit reminding him.
With the scandal a hot headline, Bravo scrambled to grab their cameras while everyone was still bleeding in the street, and when it came time to edit, they knew this season wouldn’t be rage-bait unless they anchored it in misogyny.
“I thought we were going to be like the Spice Girls,” Ariana frets. “I was hoping I’d get to zigga-zig-ah.”
“Ha! Turning women against each other is why I wake up in the morning,” Andy Cohen pauses eating a baby long enough to sip from a glass of drunk housewife tears.
April kicks off with Ariana still adjusting to the opportunity and income upgrades birthed from total life upheaval, while the vultures in her network circle the sky for scraps and squawk their way into the narrative. Her ex Sandoval shuffles in platform shoes to embrace his Charlie Brown remorseless redemption arc. This is tricky to sell, since he can’t even perform giving a shit, so he comes off more sociopathic than a serial monogamist who can’t exit a relationship without a lady-in-waiting.
“I feel like I should mention Burning Man again,” Sandoval sighs, promising this isn’t a ten-year midlife crisis, and you don’t need to see his driver’s license to check his age.
Sandoval’s hoping Schaena’s obsessive jealousy over Ariana’s turn on Dancing with the Stars will be enough to derail whatever flimsy loyalty she previously assigned to their friendship, which is a safe bet, since there’s no woman Schaena won’t assign a burning bear suit for a tendril of male approval. So begins her full transformation into Gretchen from Mean Girls, storing everyone’s tea in the location tracker on her phone, and reading off receipts whenever the attention-fairy fails to flap under her chin until she sniffs out the chorus for her next chart-missing autotune monstrosity. This is how she makes fetch happen, and tattoos it onto her arm.
“It’s all happening. It is. IT IS!” Schaena gestures violently at her pop culture initiation ink.
In the past Sandoval recommended that the cheating partner in a relationshit be the one to exit the household, but now that he’s in the village stocks that policy needs a rewrite, and like his last romantic implosion, he refuses to be the one to leave.
“This is why I tell people I wasn’t crazy, I was REACTING!” Kristin reminds everyone this is her Monica Lewinsky year.
So Ariana and Sandoval still occupy the same address, with personal assistant Ann tasked with playing a boring game of telephone. Ann’s duties include tidying the floor’s wayward hair extensions, stuffing laundry into biohazard bags, and marveling at the contents of the litterbox while Tom tracks his reflection during slow treadmill meditations on nailpolish and facial hair. Ariana has been very busy while Sandoval has just been very, so when Ariana asks Ann if she knows anyone looking for assistant work, the person Ann recommends is…herself.
“I’d really really really really like to work for someone who does stuff!” Ann squees.
“Well I’m probably going to get depressed soon, since everyone’s disparaging me for my success, and my best friends kinda aren’t…” Ariana tries to get Ann to calm down.
“I really want to work for you. Really.” Ann can’t be calmed. “I just put an enema bag in the trash. Help me.”
The next day Ann shows up in business casual attire, and quickly checks in on Tom to make sure he hasn’t lost his balance during mandatory mirror-flexing. She tells him Ariana is eager to tap her assistant network, without noting it’s a network of one, and makes haste for the kitchen. With nothing better to do than linger in the doorway of Ariana’s advancement, Sandoval learns THE TRUTH about Ann’s ambitions.
“I won’t fire her exactly, but I’ll humiliate her, and start seeing another assistant on the side,” Tom has one solution for all things.
Once Ann is crying in the kitchen, Sandoval takes his woe-is-me tour outside of the house, for more conversations about how unreasonable Ariana is for stealing the assistant that helps him wrangle the tasks of buying batteries and neglecting animals.
“Those aren’t my pets and I shouldn’t have to take care of them,” Sandoval self-awares. “Still, Ariana shouldn’t say they’re hers just because she adopted them, pays their expenses, and feeds them.”
“You locked my dog in my room for three hours, and it ate my garbage monument,” Ariana scowls.
Tom swears he shoved the litterbox full of feces in the room first, so the dog had a variety of things to snack on. That’s right, we’re given not one but two litterbox reveals, when zero would have been just fine, and it’s hard to believe the presented trough is the product of a single cat’s anal efforts, even over the stretch of a week.
“Grandma, I don’t think a cat would poop on top of poop like that, grandma,” Pogue Bun-Bun can’t believe his pink toes and nose. “I would just stand in front of it and say ‘Grandma’ over and over again while tapping the wall with my beans. Don’t they listen, Grandma?”
“Apparently not, Pogue Pierogi,” Fractalfay says, getting back to the business of doing whatever her toxoplasmosis directs.
All the same, the ASPCA needs to do a wellness check on all animals affiliated with this cast, including the frequently-biting dog working out a name-change, the cat who poops like a 41 year-old narcissist, the post-operative dog recovering from skewer-eating, and anything Schaena’s glued to her eyes.
“It’s mink!” Schaena snaps, reminding us about the time Tom saved her from financial ruin. “That’s just like a weasel or something, it’s not like it was doing anything.”
“Why are you looking at me?” Brock looks up, excited to be included.
Schaena reports she’s wrestling OCD brought on by post-baby hormones and the man-baby she shares a house with. Brock thinks the solution to this anxiety is more nannies, so there’s always someone on hand to pat makeup onto a toddler’s face while he’s busy shopping for budgie smugglers.
“I don’t see why we should parent when we don’t have to parent,” Brock’s done this before.
“I feel like this is your second chance at being a dad though,” Schaena fries.
“Doesn’t everyone get three chances?” Brock checks his notes, but all he’s written down is BECOME SANDOVAL STEP ONE: SHOES.
Schaena needs a hobby to distract herself, so she reveals she’s tracking dozens of people on her phone and knows who hooked up with who. Schaena’s big scoop is that Katie slept with Max, her former stalking victim/one-sided relationshit, and apparently Schwartz’s best friend this season. No one gives a shit in the slightest, despite Lala’s efforts to mountain-up this molehill, so the cast gets back to what they do best: chasing Ariana from scene to scene, asking if she’s gotten over her ten year relationship’s implosion yet. Now? How bout now? Now? How bout now?
This fails to trigger Ariana’s get-over-it reflex, and instead she finds herself at a beach picnic with last season’s trash and only Katie to trade side-eyes with.
“Basically I’m right professionally,” Katie reads. “On Bravo, this guarantees a villain edit.”
Schaena sits by gamely while Brock scrambles for screen time by reminding Ariana of the recent relationship crimes that lubricated her star ascension, before Schaena pivots to the once-upon-a-time everyone on the planet flirted with her even if no one else remembers.
“Tell me I’m pretty,” Schaena, always. “No, again! Tell me again!”
Only 10 of those admirers got a restraining order to halt proceedings, and since two of those were John Mayer, it technically only counts as one.
“It’s two,” John Mayer interrupts. “I had to make sure she couldn’t reach me by land or sea.”
“That still leaves air!” Schaena shouts, quickly scrawling down the name of her next song.
Sandoval and Schwartz disappear to discuss the injustice of consequences for actions, while Ariana tries to explain for the hundredth time that the manipulation window has been closed, and if her ex wants to keep smashing into it like a lost bird, that’s on him.
“Stop shoving him on me,” Ariana snaps.
“We’re leaving,” Katie calls Schwartz to let him know he should get his stuff.
“Could you just grab it?” Schwartz asks, assuming Katie is still his mommy replacement.
“Bye!” Katie is retired.
Katie and Schwartz then attempt to have a conversation about Katie’s mattress snacks with lost cast member Max, and for the first time Schwartz looks damaged.
“Maybe we could get dinner sometime,” Schwartz is not over it.
“I don’t want to get dinner sometime,” Katie is over it.
If Schwartz is going to pursue Katie all over again he’s going to need to slough off roommate and sometimes-girlfriend Jo first, which is going to be a challenge since she describes him as her “favorite person ever” thanks to a shared love of robot-noises and rubberface expressions. Jo’s not equipped to deal with the cast’s level of toxicity without a juice cleanse, so she opts for sabotage and bleaches the high holy fuck out of Schwartz’s hair instead.
“Joseph!” Schwartz always has a dumb nickname at the ready.
“Ha!” Jo’s revenge-do succeeds in failing.
This look carries him into some kind of speed-dating swingers’ party, where he courts multiple women while Jo hates herself in the bathroom. The cast’s kryptonite is direct confrontation, but Jo chooses it anyway, and asks WTF is up with dating her for months, living with her, and professing love before going lady-shopping.
“Have you seen Seeking Sister Wife?” Schwartz asks. “How about From Couple to Throuple? That one is on Peacock, so…”
Jo tabulates that she’s been played by someone who speaks in moop-moop voice when he doesn’t want to be the bad guy, then feigns ignorance when the tears start falling. Schwartz stays in character, while she retreats to privately process her failed romance with someone who seemed so perfect when they were chicken-clucking gesturing and bleeping together over burritos.
With Jo on the ropes production is desperate for more awkward Katie and Schwartz time, so we’re asked to believe they’re pursuing the same romantic lede, which is so contrived it’s not worth acknowledging beyond this. Where Katie truly shines is when she’s forced to engage with Sandoval’s scripted faux-apology tour.
“I just wanted to say I’m really sorry—“
“Let me stop you right there,” Katie retorts, every single time.
What’s Lala up to? Nothing, but she has imported her entire extended family for an assist, while proceeding to plan a second child via sperm donation, so it can be “hers” exclusively. Since this isn’t gross enough, she invites all the ladies to weigh in on the potential donor at a party at Lisa’s pink palace, where everything tacky happens, and women instantly become girls.
“Who cares!” Lala toasts with sparkling water, which is like, her thing now that she needs a thing.
“We choose Kyle!” Ariana shouts, and somewhere on Love in Paradise Kyle pauses mid-crunch.
Meanwhile, James is thriving, after giving up drinking, getting a house with Ally, and celebrating a happy reunion with long-lost dog Graham aka Hippie. He’s booking big arenas and major dates with his DJ work, but on VPR his steady gigs still happen at SUR, and he’s forced to entertain opening for Sandoval’s karaoke cover band. Sandoval starts going off on a tangent about his heartbreak over Raquel’s false imprisonment at some deprogramming camp for troubled teens, but James shuts it down with reminders that for years he claimed to be fully in-love with Ariana, and his heartbreak should be assigned to the disintegration of that union — not the side piece.
“Go push buttons on a laptop,” Sandoval whines.
“In Vegas?” James is not going to suffer a self-esteem drop from a worm with a mustache.
Ally tries to sell herself as a reformed Swiftie and an aspiring astrologer, which is more believable than Rachel’s pageant lines about helping children, so go off. She smartly keeps her distance from Lala and Schaena, who spiral further down the jealousy toilet with each passing episode, as they scramble for reasons to welcome Sandoval back to the fray and gloss over their own historic hypocrisy.
Schaena and Lala bond over their lack of understanding about real estate law, and Ariana’s unwillingness to accept a low-ball buyout offer from someone who used her good credit to fund a bar and second mortgage. Sandoval insists he will buy her out, so Ariana’s lawyers say that’s fine, and true to form, Sandoval has none of the money for this, since he already squandered his mother’s retirement.
This is still somehow branded as Ariana being unreasonable, while LVP tut-tuts about a supposed mental health crisis Sandoval experienced while he was mocking other people’s mental health.
“I think it should be obvious I’m team misogyny by now,” LVP clucks, adrift without someone to infantilize.
If that wasn’t convincing enough, LVP shows up at the shell of a sandwich shop, and is disappointed that her forced relationship between Ariana and Katie and her grifter friend Penny isn’t working.
“Here’s all the delays we haven’t enjoyed while working with your recommended COO,” Katie isn’t dumb.
“We have her contract with our lawyers,” Ariana adds, because she’s really come to appreciate the role legal experts play in her life.
“But if you have lawyers, how will you trust someone else to profit from promoting your likeness?” LVP thinks it should be clear why she picked the Toms by now.
Contracts stipulate that Kyle Chan has to perpetually resurface on this series like herpes, and a planned store opening in San Francisco means it’s time to dust off the 25th version of “Good as Gold” for whoever wants to hear it. Sandoval is tapped to manage the logistics of this opening, which he’s eager to do, and volunteers the services of his sound guy.
“I’ve never done a sound check ever,” Schaena doesn’t have to say this, but does anyway.
This also creates another opening for Schaena to fully forget that Ariana’s breakup isn’t something that happened to her.
“You’re the only person who has always had my back from day one,” Schaena actually says to the guy who called her ridiculous for ever thinking they were friends.
Lala calls while Sandoval and Schaena are playing nice-nice, to make sure Sandy knows not to come to her 33rd birthday burlesque party.
“You’re only 33?” Sandoval’s as shocked as everyone at home.
“Whatever, eternal 40,” Lala counters.
“It’s PREVENTATIVE,” Schaena snaps from the tippity top of plastic surgery mountain.
The whole team is bound for San Francisco for Kyle Chan’s opening, and Brock wants to plan a “roaring twenties” party where everyone dresses like gangsters from the 30s. Ariana’s new boyfriend Dan also plans to attend, but before they board a flight with the riff raff they go out on a cute dinner where both seem genuinely smitten with each other. Dan’s got a firm NYC vibe, and stiffens when Ariana suggests relocation to the superficial capital of the country. He’s not keen, and all I see is an opportunity for an NYC-based show and future interaction between Ariana and the Summer House crew.
“How is it possible I haven’t been engaged to him yet?” Lindsey scans her instagram followers for any possible overlap.
Meanwhile, Sandoval readies to wow no one with his band-of-sorts, and the person writing the closed captions delivers by describing his bid at trumpet playing as *plays discordant notes*. James shows up to watch the gig, and Tom’s mom is already on deck, and stares at the stage like she’s captivated by her favorite televangelist and is going to be seized by the holy spirit, as soon as the lithium wears off.
“Yike,” Vy’s go-to line really works here.
Before the show is even over the venue scrambles to take his name off the marque, and Jo and Schwartz assemble outside to revisit their separation. Jo demonstrates the moves she learned at her latest improv class, and Schwartz asks to perform his one man wishy-washy act. Jo consents, and he says he feels weird with the distance between them, but wants their status as friends to be clear, but also doesn’t want to rule out getting married in eight years.
“See? That’s what I’m talking about,” protests Jo, who has too many receipts reflecting his habit of professing undying love and then taking it back.
Dan seems to know his presence on the show will inspire speculation that he’s a screen-chaser, so he opts out of a planned group boat outing in favor of working out and getting a massage. Everyone else heads to pier 39, where Lala uses her laser-sharp people reading skills to hone in on everything she overlooks in herself. Schwartz attempts to hold Katie’s hand for the first time in 15 years, and Katie tests the battery on her taser in case she needs to use it. Brock reminds everyone that Schaena recommended warm clothes but no one paid attention, so maybe folks should go on a spending spree at local shops before they board the SS Minnow for a three hour tour.
Schwartz tells Sandoval he’s been thinking about his proposal that they live together and collectively pay a $12K a month mortgage, and his mind is telling him no, but his body is telling him yeah.
“So I’m saying yes,” Schwartz announces, and Sandoval is super relieved he’s that much closer to still not being able to buy Ariana out.
On board the boat the weather starts getting tough, and the tiny ship is tossed, which ups the opportunity for a rogue wave to knock someone’s cell phone into the sea. All that build up has no delivery, but James does find the fire for a few random swings around a pole.
“Whee! I’m fun!” James is an army of one.
After the trip Sandoval dares the sea lions to attack, but they think they’ve already had their fill of microplastics, and some tragic twist of fate leaves Ariana trapped in conversation with Brock.
“Have you considered getting over your breakup for my wife’s benefit?” Holy shit Brock.
“So she can be buddies with the guy who screamed at her last week?” Ariana hasn’t sniffed glue since high school.
“Here’s a bland statement about forgiveness…” Brock says things.
“You don’t have to forgive anyone,” Ariana with the truth. “Gray rocking and going no contact is the only way to avoid manipulation. That’s me. I’m a grey rock.”
“I am the walrus!” a sea lion with an identity crisis retorts.
“I’m Schaena’s rock,” Brock tries. “And people have always said I’ve got rocks in my head, so I get it.”
“Not really,” Ariana’s familiar with how men on this show work. “I’m retired from diapering my man-baby. There’s power in female rage. And there never seems to be any issue with male rage.”
“Male rage whaaaa…” Brock’s sniffing glue habit is active, as the editors provide a little montage of all the mantrums that have tied the show together since this season’s premiere.
Brock derps away to get a haircut from the wrong era, and everyone gets ready for the historically inaccurate theme party, and Lala knocks on the door of Ariana’s room for a chance to spot Dan in a towel.
“I’m not mad,” Lala’s eyes keep going up and down, while Dan seems to immediately identify the bullshit before him.
Dan passes on the group dinner in favor of a private dinner with one of Ariana’s best friends, but he does iron all of Ariana’s clothes and lay them out for her, so Ann should know the personal assistant competition is heating up. It’s hard to tell if Dan is defensive about the coming interrogation, if he’s yucked out about sharing airspace with Sandoval, or if he just wants nothing to do with all of this.
“He (Sandoval) hasn’t done anything to me,” Dan explains. “But I know what he’s done.”
“I need to go before my lady-boner shows,” Lala excuses herself.
James splish splashes balls-deep in the bathtub with a rubber duck, while Ally tries to puzzle out Dan’s reluctance to attend dinner.
“Have you met us?” James asks, before humming a few bars of Rubber Ducky. “He might not even be able to stand being in the room with Sandoval. And not just because of the smell. Did you hear he’s moving in with his loser best friend so they can go nowhere together? Swan dive into bubbles!”
Everyone arrives at a bar or something, with James looking Peaky Blinders, Schwartz in a brown suit with snaps down the sides, Lala playing flapper, and Brock looking like a bouncer at a Berlin sex club. Someone notes Ariana and Sandoval wear similar shoes, and Ariana seems hypnotized by her phone as a means of avoiding looking up for too long.
Wing-woman Katie is ever at the ready, so she and Ariana take in the view until Schwartz saunters over to announce they look like a duo.
“We’re the new Tom-Tom,” Katie smirks.
Schwartz admits he’s still subservient, and is eager to hit on his ex-wife.
“You like me again,” he tries.
“No I don’t,” Katie retorts.
Schwartz goes on to propose a one-night stand of binge-eating snack food and scrolling in silence, but Katie isn’t nostalgic for her mistakes. She thinks in a few years Schwartz will brand her the one who got away, and she’s going to stay away just to make sure that happens.
Schaena finds a secluded spot to go outside with Sandoval to talk logistics, while Ariana paces alone, texting Dan that she’s got leftovers for him. He responds he’s stuffed and a little drunk, and his pushing away is getting distracting. Sandoval insists to Schaena that he feels good about Dan’s presence, because that way someone is there for Ariana. Schaena tries to get him to apologize for weaponizing her mental health, and Sandy admits that he does feel bad about that, and this almost seems sincere, so they indulge in an extended hug.
“I helped Ariana clean her house too,” Schaena reminds everyone at home, just in case we were landing too hard on her being awful.
“Oh, I’m still just here to rage bait,” Lala interjects, eager to resume instigation duties once her sparkling water hangover subsides.
Thank you, Patreon supporters! The rest of the season will be recapped in May! patreon.com/fractalfay

Drake been talking about Chubbs for years like hes Vladimir Putin or some shit. Youre telling me the biggest gangster in North America has his instagram laid out like a thottie, writing cute captions and posting trips to Caicos.
I dont know the guy and im happy hes good in life and shit but if youre in hip hop walking around like Suge Knight lets see if its real lol

Agent Inari X. did not debut with the book "Playing with Echoes" and his ride wasn't originally the banged up LP500X prototype affectionately called the "Black Banshee."
He originally debuted in an obscure stop motion series that was my personal but eccentric endeavor while in university, as a support character. Like so many other projects that became big, this started with an April Fool's joke, this time of a certain little cheeky character exploring the desks of studio that became a challenge by others to do everyone's desks. The challenge was accepted and methodically accomplished with three seasons and forty episodes (not counting holiday specials).
Inari X. first publicly appeared in Season 2, Episode XX when the cute MC did a little time travel to Echo Park in 1937. Inari was the substitute recipient of a iconic pocket watch apparently nicked from a professor who always used it (which caused a flurry of rumors in studio on how that was possibly done) when a colleague turned down the live action cameo scene (not to say she didn't later inspire a book character...). Right from the start, Inari appeared in his gangster suit and a clean ME412.
The Chrysler ME412 was an American supercar aimed at taking down Euro greats like the Veyron but was allegedly canned by M-B (merged with Chrysler at the time) who didn't like it outperforming their own SLR-McLaren for a fraction of the production cost. It was picked for Inari because it had a sculpted look and retro interior that fitted his intended appearance of a vintage tough gangster, a tall serious man in a suit and wide brimmed fedora. And that look worked, especially when juxtaposed with the much more comical Agent K.O. and his red headphones and red GTR.
Both characters helped the stopmotion MC retrieve his lost tech and vanquished the evil out of "Echo Park" but that wasn't the end of the story for the characters, much less the antagonists that would be bent on revenge. At the same time, another story was slowly being worked out in my brain that started with visions of a black sports car racing along the riverside freeways on a summer night during my first summer vacation here. Monsters and familiar faces kept flashing in my mind. An agent hunted like a fox and having to be just as clever to survive.
Eventually, I worked out a rough draft of the story concepts by my third year but realized that it would require far more time and resources to pull off as a stop motion series centered around that cheeky MC that Inari and K.O. had helped before. After producing an unaired special and demo episode, it became apparent that it would be far more feasible to write it as a book. I could still layout the scenes, dialogue, and views, as if it were a movie but with the flowing narrative of a book. The previous MC was retired and now it was Inari versus the mad doctor, without the light-heartedness: a dark and gritty plot on the dangers of memories, monsters, and the men who manipulate them. Of course, it would be quite a few years before the book was published but night after night I worked on it, hammering out details and applying lessons learned about people to make the story and characters work.
In this post apocalyptic setting of a collapsed America and "Echo Park" surviving only as a secretive research institution, Inari would need a ride to match the grittiness. Enter the LP500X. The base model first gen Countach was built in '74 and featured analog tech that wouldn't be as adversely affected by EMF and EMP interreference of the experiments taking place in Echo Park. And despite the fuss by some mechanics, the thing works well if well maintained. The flat glass and body panels made it ideal for Kevlar and ballistic glass as well as a pair of Chicago typewriters under the front bonnet. Whereas the ME412 was great for a smooth criminal kind of adventures, the LP500X was more macho and more brawny for the dangerous situations Inari X. would encounter in this new mission against the mad Doctor Snala. Thus the switch in rides when changing from stop motion to novel writing.
It was given the name Black Banshee because in initial stopmotion tests, I used the sounds of an actual Countach with a Kressig F1 exhaust for the driveby scenes. It sounded like a Banshee, which in my Irish ancestry and lore, is a creature that wails as a harbinger of coming death. The fact Inari drives this car into situations where bad guys soon, well, you get the picture. You hear that eerie high pitched wail coming down the highway and minutes later, something explodes, catches fire, or collapses and you know that car is somehow responsible.
That's the real world origin of Inari and his banged up ride. Started as part of an ongoing joke that became a series then book. As for the character's fictional backstory and complicated history with other characters, that's within the novel itself.
As for that stolen pocket watch... guess it's time to come clean. I didn't steal it. LOL. I just happened to have one too and with a potato cam, it looked just like his. LOLOLOL

Okay… this is me about to be incredibly truthful for once in my entire life. We all have secrets…. But I have a lot. I KNOW there’s something very wrong with me. I’ve been like this my whole life.
I’ll start from the beginning, as far back as I can remember and try to paraphrase a lot of this.
I’ve always been a show off. I’ve always craved attention. I was an only child. My father abandoned me and my mother. Messed up part was my father was a pedofile I guess. My mother was 15 and he was her teacher. I never knew my father. Never met him. My mother wouldn’t tell me much about him.
When I started to go to school, I always wanted to be the center of attention. I was rude, argumentative and selfish all from an early age… we’re taking like from age 5. I would lie about everything. It didn’t matter what it was. I wanted everyone to like me. So I would lie and say I was rich. I would steal money from my mother’s purse just to prove that I was rich to my school mates. I didn’t really have friends because I was hard to get along with. I was a spiteful child. Once I hurt a little boy (we were the same age) just because other people liked him more than me. In school I was quite smart in the early years. Really good at reading, math, spelling. Things like that. But I didn’t really have friends. This was down to me ruining friendships. I would go to kids houses and ruin it. I’d be selfish, I wouldn’t share, I was violent. The violence issue is kind of a two issue thing. My mother was violent to me. I think that made me violent to other kids. It was serious abuse. She would do things that were sickening. Burn me, cut me, suffocate me, tie me up, starve me. But her excuse was that I was naughty and needed to be taught a lesson. I don’t know if I was violent because my mother was violent…. But I’m physically weak. That’s the funny part. When I was a young, like age 5 to 9 other children weren’t as violent as me. So if I lashed out at another child, they would be hurt and cry. I wasn’t strong, it’s just the other kids weren’t violent. But after age 10, the other kids started to fight back…. I became the “victim”…. I started to get beat up a lot. Most of the time it wasn’t because I was fighting and losing. I kind of realized that I wasn’t as strong as the other kids…. But my mouth…. Oh my mouth would get my ass kicked. A real dumbass. I would get my ass kicked and still keep running my mouth. But although I was physically weak, I would act like I was a real tough guy. That became my thing…. To make people believe I was tough. The same way I wanted people to think I was rich, I wanted people to believe that I could fight. I remember realizing that no one liked me in my school when I was 11. So much so that I chose to go to a new school far away from my old one, in the hopes that no one would know me and I could have a fresh start. This would have worked. But my character was still the same. I started at a new school. A fresh start. A chance to stop the lies….. nope. I told them I was rich. “I had all these clothes and sneakers, but I wasn’t allowed to bring them to school”…. I told people I was really good at sports (I sucked at every sport). I was skinny… really skinny. Tiny little wrists and forearms. Looked like a girl (I’m a man). At age 12, this is the age where other kids go through puberty and behavior changes. Now my fake tough guy attitude was no longer tolerated and I started to get beaten up a lot. I would say sarcastic and rude things to the wrong people. One thing about me is I didn’t really have fear in that way. What started as a fresh start in a new school, ended up getting me a reputation as a loser. The other kids didn’t like me. They all knew I lied a lot. They all knew I used to get beaten up a lot. In some cases I did get bullied. Buy it was because I was trying to fit in with certain crowds and they knew I wasn’t really one of them and they decided to clown me. Girls never liked me when I was young. Too skinny, too girly and weak looking. I ended up slacking on my school work so now I wasn’t that academically inclined anymore. But I had to keep lying to my mother. She had to believe that I was the top of the class. I would tell her that I was popular in school. Good at sports and really intelligent. I moved around from school group to school group, trying to fit in. The cool kids were beating me up after they realized I was a fake. The sporty kids would beat me up and clown me after they realized I couldn’t play any sports. So I went to the smart kids. The less popular kids. But I was an asshole and always thought I was better than other people. So they ended up not liking me either. I felt so alone and isolated. But I was too blind at the time to see that this was all my fault.
Lying….. lying became my thing. I would lie about anything. Imagine I’ve had an uneventful day at school. I would get home and say some random lie like “someone set a fire in school today and I saw it”…. No fire happened. I know that I did this because I wanted to have attention. But I lied about everything.
When I got to the age of being interested in girls, this was a sad time for me. Girls didn’t like me. Well…. I think some did like me, but I had such a bad reputation that it was embarrassing to be with me. So I would try to go to other towns and talk to girls in shopping malls with one friend that used to beat me up and belittle me…. (That’s a long story. But I didn’t have much options for friends)…. I noticed that girls in other towns that didn’t know me would show me interest. I liked that. I got to be someone else completely. But I was only like 15 at this time. At this age everyone is law and gone through puberty and I was just starting. A weak, skinny teenage boy with no muscle definition. Who loved to show off and lie. So I started to wear multiple layers of clothing because I didn’t want people to know I was so skinny. I was almost medically skinny even though I ate. So I would wear like 3 or 4 sweaters to look “normal”…. I was that skinny. I told you everything about me was fake.
I discovered porn at quite an early age and got an addiction for it. I loved women’s body’s. I lost my virginity at 16. I ended up meeting a girl that thought I was cute. She was also a virgin. We dated. But I treated her like shit. I would show off and tell everyone that I was a player. I would walk around holding her by the wrist, just so other guys would think I was the man…. Karma is truly real, because at 16 I walked into that girls house when her parents were away and she was having sex with another teenage boy. Karma….
So at this age I eventually met a new girl. From another town. One where no one knew me. I had problems at home and my mother kicked me out at age 16. So I moved to a young persons hostel in a new town. Met lots of new people. But the cycle of showing off started again. Make people believe that I was a gangster, a tough guy that wasn’t scared of anyone. Lie about everything. Eventually things went really bad for me in this new town, my fake life and facade got my ass kicked a few too many times. I mouthed off to the wrong people a few too many times, to the point that I had to flee that town. I was only 17.
I then decided to move to a city. A fresh start. No one would know me. I think these “fresh starts” were my way of trying to find a place where I could lie and be believed and never found out.
The city was worse lol. In the city the trouble that finds you is worse. But now I changed physically. I was 18. And all of a sudden young women started to notice me. I all of a sudden became “handsome” I guess. This became a problem. Why you might ask…. I was a violent person with a bad attitude, but I couldn’t fight to save my life and I was weak…. Imagine of all of sudden I learned how to fight…. I would have become a nightmare. Well this is what happened with my looks. I realized that girls liked my face now. And I became a womanizer. And very good at it too. I would have no issues with having sex with multiple women. I was a liar…. A good liar. I mean I could be caught off guard and tell you a convincing lie within a split second, plus I was/am a good looking guy. But I was never honest with women. I would lead them to believe that I was their boyfriend, and make them think I was faithful. I would spend nights on the phone to 6 girls or so. I racked up a crazy number of women that I had slept with. A number that you would think within itself must be a lie. But my life became sex. My focus was to meet women, get them to fall in love with me, and have sex with them. I used to tell myself that the only reason I was sleeping with so many women, was because I was looking for the perfect woman. A perfect face, perfect body etc. The reality was, this was true on some level…. But the perfect woman would never exist, because there would always be someone prettier. Nothing and no one was enough for me. I got bored very quickly. I would sleep with a woman once or twice and not want to talk to her again. But if she was really pretty, then I would want her to be my girlfriend…. This happened with many women. I look back and think how the hell did I manage to juggle so many “girlfriends”… But it was easier when I was younger, because the women were younger too.. They required less time and attention. I was really good at it. Really good at covering my tracks. I never got caught….. At the time. I’m in my early 40s now. So social media wasn’t really a thing when I was young and running around like my penis would fall off if I didn’t have sex. I would make sure that I didn’t have too many women within the same neighborhood. Fast forward to my early twenties. I had a main girlfriend. One whom I convinced myself I loved. However, whilst I was in a relationship with her I had sex with more women than when I was “single”. I became a hunter. Facebook was in its prime at this point. I started to go to the gym. Being skinny, I became ripped quite quickly. I would send messages to women and make sure I had thirst trapping photos. Facebook and instagram became my hunting ground. I no longer had to walk the streets. I stopped going out. I would only go to work, come home and talk to women on social media. It became a sport. Could I get the pretty women on social media to give me attention, and then how quickly could I get them to come to my house and have sex. I didn’t target easy “prey”… In fact I had very little interest in the women that were easy. I wanted the ones that were going o be hard work. If she was incredibly beautiful, and had a sexy body, I would pursue her. I’m not saying I was always successful. But…. I did well. A strange thing that I did…. I would keep a record of how many women I had sex with. I have sex with a woman and then I write down her name in chronological order. It started on paper, and then evolved to an electronic record. The problem with having sex with so many women. Other than the obvious sexually transmitted infections. Was that humans naturally get attached.. Especially when sex is involved and words of love are told. So I had to make these women leave me alone after I got bored of them. But I couldn’t just say “Hey I’m bored now”.. I;’m a liar remember. My problem is that on top of being a liar, I need people to like me. I hate the idea of people hating me. So I would try to figure out a way to make these women leave ME… or find an excuse to break things off with them, based on something that did….. No matter how small the thing they did was. I’ve broken a lot of hearts. I’ve cheated. Lied. Sex has become my drug. I will do and say anything I can to get it. As I write this I do feel shame. But the shame maybe is based on knowing that everyone reading this will think I’m a piece of shit. Not necessarily because of what I have done. A very narcissistic thing indeed. I’m in my early 40s now. This behavior of lying, cheating, sleeping around has not stopped at all. I’m 42, but I look like I’m 27 to 32. I haven’t stopped my ways. They’ve gotten worse. In some instances I’m honest to women. I tell them that I’m no good and hey should keep away from me…. But deep down I know by saying this I’m manipulating them to want me more. I went through a stage where I only wanted to sleep with new women…. Meaning only once. Remember I think I have a sex addiction. So I go through stages where I sleep with so many women. This ha snot been without its dramas. This era is now full of screenshots and social media evidence. Everyone knows each other in some way now. I didn’t write this for sympathy… I don’t even think anyone would give me sympathy. I’m not a victim. But even at 42 I FIGHT with myself not to lie. Sometimes I find myself wanting to tell a random pointless lie and I truly have to fight with myself saying “what’s the point in lying”…. I no longer want or care about if people think I’m rich. But I do want EVERYONE to like me. I still lie all the time. No one knows the truth about who I am. I left the town I grew up in at an early age, never to return. I don’t talk to my mother. I move around a lot. I can’t control my urges when it comes to women. I see a beautiful woman, then I have to be with her. I will lie, cheat, and say whatever I have to. I know there’s multiple things wrong with me. I know. It’s not an excuse. I’m just not capable of telling the truth. I’m not capable of being monogamous. I hate the idea of people disliking me or blaming me for things. I know this may result in so many people leaving hateful comments. If anyone ever sees this. I think I wrote this just to get it off my chest….. Although it won’t change who I am. If you asked die how would you feel if your daughter met someone like you…. The answer is I would hate it… But I can’t change who I am. I have been this person since I was 4 years old. I wanted attention and acceptance from my school friends. I tried to get it by lying and trying to make people like me. Then I got older and did the same thing, but by having sex with women. I don’t think I’m a bad person…. But I know what I do is wrong. I always thought that when I get older I would change. I would behave… Or my looks would fade and women would stop being interested in me. I don’t have any money so I can’t buy women lol…. But …. I don’t know. I wish I could change. I with I could be honest. The problem is I’ve told so many lies that to tell people the truth now, would destroy whole families. I’ve told too many lies, that there’s no turning back. Help me.

“You ready to do this?” Brukka asked, gripping my hand tightly in hers. “Once we do, there’s no going back.”
I thought about it for a while, and then nodded.
“Yeah. It feels right. I don’t know how I know, but it does.”
She nodded back at me.
“Okay. You have the wand?”
I had forgotten about it in the pockets of my robes, but quickly pulled it out and held it up against the larger staff. It melded into the larger piece of wood, disappearing and causing the entire object to increase in size.
“Man, that always freaks me out.”
“Me too. Well, at least it’s gonna be the last time we have to see it. It’s gonna be the last time we have to deal with any of this.”
That thought brought me a pang of sadness. This had been a hell of an adventure. It was kinda disappointing that it was all going to be over soon. All this time I had been planning to become THE guardian of the multiverse, to take over after Xavier was gone. But now everything was going to be different. I was going to go back to being a teenager again. Going back to school and trying to make friends…
Holy shit, I had missed SO MUCH SCHOOL, I realized. Like SO MUCH, you have no idea.
But, it was for the best. A normal life sounded great right about now. I couldn’t wait for that.
“Hey, I just thought of something,” I said. “If you didn’t have magic anymore, would you, like, age super fast like those witches in Stardust? Because that would really suck. Xavier said you’re like a hundred years old or something, right?”
“Nah, I’ll just start to age from where I left off. Which is about the same as you.”
“OH. So, you mean, we’d be in the same grade? We could go to the same school and be like… together?”
I wasn't sure how to properly finish this sentence, but I had a feeling she knew what I was getting at. She blushed at the suggestion.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
Something else occurred to me then.
“Your dad said something about how you made a deal with a demon from another dimension, and that’s how you became super evil. Is that all true?”
She shook her head.
“He would have said anything to get you to break up with me. And you did, by the way, I still haven’t forgiven you for that.”
She kissed me hard on the mouth, telling me otherwise, and settled back with a grin. Her berry lip gloss reminded me of-
“Hey! Give that back!”
She stepped back suddenly with the key in her hand. Was this seriously all just a ruse for her to get it from me? After all this time, had she really not changed at all??
Thankfully she was just fucking with me. She winked at me and tossed it back.
“Gotcha. I had to mess with you again, at least once, for old times sake.”
After a few stunned seconds, she nudged me forward with a cute little push.
“Go on. Do it. You’re the chosen one, after all,” she said with a smile.
I grabbed her hand, pulling her closer.
“Y’know, I think this time… It’s actually the chosen TWO.”
And with that I held up the staff, pressing it into the bark of the All World Tree’s trunk. It began to absorb into it, reluctantly at first. And then, a moment later, you could no longer tell where one started and the other began.
The two of us watched the tree for a few more seconds, and then our eyes found each other's again, and we embraced fiercely.
After a few blessed seconds of wonderful silence, Xavier’s voice began to scream from out of nowhere.
“YOU FOOLS! YOU BLOODY, INCOMPETENT FOOLS! Don’t you realize what you’ve just done!?”
We stared at him in dumb silence for a few moments before I managed a reply.
“We returned the tree to itself. It’s whole again. That was the only way to stop him, Xavier. We had to do it. I’m sorry.”
“WHOLE!? You think it’s whole!? There are a half dozen other pieces of the All World Tree still scattered around the globe! Other sorcerers descended from those who lived in ancient days! Did you really think we were the only ones?”
Brukka looked shocked.
“You told me we were the only ones who had a piece of the tree! You said we were the only ones left to protect it!”
“And you believed me!? I lie all the time! I’m a terrible person! Oh, this is really bad. Truly awful. Those other sorcerers are not good people, that’s why they weren’t chosen to protect the tree! And the fact that they weren’t chosen just made them more jaded. Most of them are lifelong criminals! Gangsters and thugs who use their power for evil and greedy purposes. Oh, heavens, boy. You really screwed the pooch this time. Yes, we are all almost certainly going to die. They'll sense the power vacuum and show up one by one to claim my place as rightful guardian of the tree. And then who knows what they might do with its power!? And now, I have no way to defend it! Nothing to stop them with! I begged you to care for the staff, to keep it safe! And you return it to the tree!? How did you get such a terrible, stupid idea in your head!?”
Brukka didn't hesitate.
“It was my idea. I'll take the blame, okay? He didn't know. Neither of us did. We thought it was the solution to all of this, but now… Now I'm not so sure.”
“If only there was a way to take it back,” I said. “We worked so hard and now it’s all for nothing. I wish I could just go back in time and-”
Suddenly the world flashed bright white all around us, causing me to blink my eyes shut. Brukka was still holding my hand, and when I opened my eyes and looked around, everything was different.
I was holding the big staff in my hand again, ready to reintegrate it into the tree. And Xavier was gone.
“What the hell?” I said, pulling it back. “Did we just…”
“Travel back in time?” Brukka finished. “Yeah, I think we did.”
“But, how?”
The Dark Wizard was unconscious on the ground still as we spoke, but I saw him beginning to stir now. He was starting to wake up after I’d bonked him on the head earlier.
“The tree contains the entire multiverse inside of it. Space and time. I think they’re both aspects of the same thing, if I remember my science lessons correctly. I might be misremembering, since that was like 90 years ago.”
“No, that sounds right. That makes sense. The tree saw we made a mistake, and it sent us back to fix it.”
We both stared up at the All World Tree, trying to decipher what it wanted from us.
“What do we do?” I asked, after a few moments. “What do you want from us?”
Who knew how many chances we would get at this? There might have only been one mulligan. We needed to get it right this time.
“The road less traveled is less traveled for a reason,” said the Dark Wizard’s voice from behind us. “Don’t you remember what I told you both? So long ago, now. You are both taking the easy road. The way to a better future is simple - we must start over. The Tree knows this as well as I do! We must bring this realm of existence to an end, to start over fresh and new! It is the only way!”
I thought back to the other Brukka I had met, in the other multiverse. The one who had succeeded in her plans to blow it all up. She wasn’t happy either. She actually told me I needed to stop it from happening, since our multiverse was keeping hers supplied with cats, which she was unable to reproduce in her world.
Suddenly, I had an idea. And something told me, this time, it was the right idea. Now that we had all of the information to make an informed decision, we could do what needed to be done.
“I can’t,” I said. “I think you’re right. But I can’t do it myself. I just can’t bring myself to destroy the All World Tree. You do it.”
“Jordan, NO!” Brukka yelled. But I didn’t listen.
I handed the staff back to the Dark Wizard. Then, I tossed him the golden key which hung around my neck. Brukka gasped, looking at me as if I had just betrayed her. But I dropped her a sly wink, and her expression softened a little.
The Dark Wizard looked just as surprised. But after a few seconds of composing himself, he put the key around his own neck, held up the staff, and pointed it towards the tree.
“I knew you would come around,” he said, laughing. “Smart boy. Very smart. You can see as well as I do that this realm is on its last legs. But the three of us will start everything anew! A triumvirate of power, ruling over the new multiverse!”
A black ball of energy began to grow around the tip of the staff, swirling and building in size and strength. It built up, larger and larger, until it enveloped the tree. We stepped back and watched as the sphere grew even bigger, encompassing the Dark Wizard.
“Benedicti, Burraka, Mustafa, Beurre blanc, Rastifarian, Nunchuku, Esteban!”
The Dark Wizard’s incantation sounded like a mixture of random words, but there did seem to be some power in them, as if spoken together they were stronger than if spoken alone.
“What are you doing?” Brukka whispered. “I thought we were trying to stop him!?”
“We don’t have to,” I said. “He’s not the chosen one. Or, chosen two, I guess I should say.”
“He doesn’t have the power,” she uttered. “He thinks he does, but he’s not strong enough without us.”
“Exactly. And what happens when a lightweight tries to take on a heavyweight?”
She smiled.
“He gets knocked the fuck out.”
At that instant, the ball of dark energy imploded, a shockwave of white light erupting from within it. It grew in size and strength, exploding outwards from the tree and causing all of the nearby plantlife to be blown backwards, as if by a nuclear blast.
“What!? What is this!? What’s HAPPENING!?” The Dark Wizard howled, and I saw his robe being incinerated, revealing his horrifying visage.
He spun around to scowl at us, and as he did the skin around his face began to flake and peel away, like dry paint. Still, he didn’t die. The dark power inside of him kept him alive through it all, as his skin was torn away, revealing muscle, and then bone beneath that. Until he was nothing but a skeleton filled with dark energy, his eyes still boring into mine, his horrible grin still somehow on his face. But then I realized that all skeletons look like they are smiling, and he probably wasn’t actually too thrilled with this situation.
“I will get you. I will find my way back to this plane of existence. And I will kill the both of you! I will be the one to usher in the new age! I will be the one to take this multiverse from the tree, and GIVE IT TO HIM!”
I gripped Brukka’s hand even tighter, and looked over at her.
“Who does he keep talking about? Who is this HIM guy?”
“I don’t really know. Something from the prophecies, I guess. Some dark, horrible, satanic antichrist figure, I’m assuming.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, I was never really into that part of it so much. I was just gonna kick him to the curb and do my own thing at a certain point. You know, after you and Xavier were dead. But I guess you figured that out already.”
“Yeah. The other Brukka told me all about it. But, y’know, she didn’t look too happy with her decisions. I think she regretted it.”
Brukka nodded.
“I can see why. After you described the place to me, it didn’t sound very nice. But at least she’s got cats to keep her company.”
“Yeah, thanks to us.”
The dark wizard was still screaming and melting, looking at us incredulously.
“Are you two REMINISCING right now!? What the FUCK!? I’m dying over here!”
And with that, the bright white light finally turned his bones into ash, and they scattered on the wind.
The key and the staff fell to the forest floor, and the two of us walked over to pick them up.
I took the staff and Brukka grabbed the key. She put it around her neck, and I didn’t try to stop her this time. It was her birthright, after all. Her inheritance from a father who should have tried a lot harder.
“You did it,” Xavier’s voice came from behind me, just as I was thinking of him. “I would have never thought of that, I must be honest.”
We both turned around to see the old sorcerer standing before us, with tears in his eyes.
“I’m so proud of both of you,” he said, pulling the two of us into a bearhug. “You’re going to make such excellent guardians.”
After a long embrace, we stood back, and I looked at him with a smile.
“I thought there could only be ONE guardian. Isn’t that what you always said?”
He tried to smile, but faltered.
“Forget everything I ever taught you, Jordan. You are a finer sorcerer than I could have ever hoped to be.”
He turned to look at Brukka.
“And you, my daughter. Brukka. How can I ever make it up to you, for all that I’ve done wrong? I’ve been a terrible teacher, and an even worse father. I let your mother… No, nevermind that. What I mean to say is that you deserved so much better. And I only wish I could go back in time, to correct everything I did wrong-”
Bright white light flashed suddenly, and he was gone. Xavier, who had been standing in front of us a second before, was nowhere to be seen.
I looked down and noticed there was a root of the All World Tree poking up out of the ground where he had been standing.
“Oh, shit. I think he just pulled a Marty McFly,” I said, pointing at the root.
“A Marty McWho?” Brukka asked.
I raised my eyebrows, looking at her with deep concern.
“Wait… You haven’t seen Back to the Future!? Okay, we’re going to go watch it right now! Do you have Netflix at your place? Wait, maybe I’ll have to rent it. Either way, great movies.”
“Movies? As in, plural? How many of these things do I have to watch?”
“You’re gonna love ‘em! There’s this crazy wild-eyed old man scientist type who converts a Delorean into a time machine. He kinda reminds me of somebody, actually. I dunno who, but he seems super familiar.”
“Can’t we just watch Rick and Morty? There’s time travel in that too. And multiverse stuff. It’s right up your alley.”
“Okay, one Back to the Future movie, then I promise we’ll watch Rick and Morty.”
The two of us walked away from the All World Tree holding hands, still chatting about movies and TV. Xavier was gone, sent back in time somewhere, but that was okay. We could figure that out another day.
For now, the two of us were just gonna be kids again.
FIRST PREV

My hand was resting on my thigh, nervously caressing a little box tucked away neatly in a corner of my pocket. My date for the evening was sitting on the other end of the table and was animatedly talking on the phone.
Well, not my date exactly – Chloe and I have been seeing each other for more than 5 years now. But this was where we first met, right here, by the patio of this cozy little café - on a blind date set up by friends.
We had just returned from a movie, a whodunit mystery and Chloe was going over the story with her mother, completely ruining all the suspense for her. Every time she updates her online status about a visit to the cinemas, you can be rest assured her friends will make themselves scarce for the next few hours at least.
And she’s always been this way – spontaneous, impulsive, excitable, and yet kind, compassionate and earnest. She likes to act on impulse, and worry about the consequences later.
Good or bad, she needs to get everything off her chest, which is in complete contrast to me.
I, on the other hand, am known for being reserved, restrained, shy, even stoic under pressure, and yet, always brooding underneath the surface. A state of mind that is constantly striving to combat a form of pensiveness.
At least that’s the general impression people have of me, I think.
But it was not always this way. I used to be a fun loving kid with a normal childhood who used to love the outdoors.
But something happened to me on my 9th birthday when I was returning home from school, and I suddenly experienced a panic attack for the first time in my life.
Since then, I have experienced many more.
Over the years, I realized I was increasingly prone to an attack when my mind was under stress. And this would ultimately lead to what has now become a familiar sequence of symptoms that would course through my body, leaving me feeling utterly helpless.
My legs would first go stiff, as if being weighed down by lead. This was followed by an acute dryness that would grip my throat, leaving it parched and instantly yearning for a sip of water. The hands at my sides would start to tremble next as I tried desperately to recover from a severe shortness of breath. Meanwhile, huge beads of sweat would have already formed around my forehead while I felt my heart pound away in my chest.
But what scared me the most was the very thing that triggered the panic attacks.
I would start seeing strange visions unfold in front of my eyes that often made me question my own sanity.
These manifestations would occur randomly, seemingly out of nowhere, and I would immediately start experiencing the physical symptoms. It was as if my mind was ready to tap into the portal of a different dimension at that very moment.
I would then stand transfixed in horror, unable to move, as the anxiety quietly took hold of me, crippling both my body and mind, eventually leading to a blackout.
When my parents became aware, they grew consumed with worry. My dad finally even quit his job and relocated our family to the suburbs, in the hopes that a change of scenery in a quieter place would turn out better for my mental health.
And it did help in my recovery because it brought me in contact with Coach Riley, my physical education instructor at my new school.
A deeply spiritual man, Coach Riley introduced me to the benefits of meditation and encouraged me to adopt a disciplined lifestyle.
Despite my initial doubts about his methods, I eventually realized that the panic attacks were slowly fading away with time. And that provided me with the necessary motivation to follow through on his instructions with devoted commitment.
I meditated and exercised every day and gradually embraced a regimented lifestyle that would continue well into my adulthood.
By prioritizing my mental health, I managed to minimize my exposure to triggers that could lead to such attacks. This involved limiting frequent visits to crowded or unknown places to the extent possible without undermining the quality of my life, and by also creating safe spaces that I could regularly visit.
I also abstained from all forms of intoxication and avoided the party scene entirely. Thankfully, I cultivated a small but loyal circle of friends who consistently made me feel valued in their presence.
Although, there have been times when I have wondered if I was being too hard on myself and forgotten what it meant to have a good time. But I can't fault the method because I know it has been working.
I haven’t had an episode in over 10 years now.
So, when Chloe came into my life it was like a breath of fresh air, igniting a spark in me that I thought was buried away for good.
Being around her rekindled the inner child in me and I wanted to experience the world with her. For someone, who saw himself as generally unlucky in life from a young age, it was as if Lady Luck had finally decided to shower her blessings on me.
And I began to grow as a person, strongly fuelled by a burning desire to be a better man for her.
As a result, I became more outgoing, even willing to spontaneously suggest a visit to the cinemas, or take a leisurely stroll down a market with her by my side, or simply lie down at the beach, soaking in the sun and enjoying the waves. I also secretly saved up enough money over the last few years by working overtime to buy a new home of our own.
As Chloe sat engrossed on the phone, she suddenly became conscious when everyone at the café began to stare at her. And I saw her jaw drop when she turned around in her seat to find me down on one knee, holding a ring.
Her eyes quickly turned moist as she immediately cut the call. She cupped my face with her hands and said, “Yes. Yes. Yes! Took you long enough!”
As we kissed and hugged, the whole café erupted into a wave of applause. Her mom's return call remained unanswered, as the two of us stood there locked in a tight embrace. The mother would have to wait now to get to the rest of the story.
Just then, an elderly lady came over to our table and offered to take a photo to record this moment for posterity, and we were only too happy to oblige.
A couple of clicks later, we requested one more and decided to stand right next to the café’s large nameboard on the wall, since this was where it all began.
The old lady holding Chole’s phone moved back a little, so that she could also accommodate “PROVIDENCE CAFE” into the frame - to feature alongside the newly engaged couple.
Just as she was about to take the picture, a young kid around 12 years of age, ran into the elderly woman causing her to stumble and fall. I quickly ran towards her to help, while the boy merely stood and watched from a distance.
To my surprise, there was not a hint of remorse in him. He even smirked as he scooped up the phone when it bounced off the floor. This was deliberate on his part.
Chloe noticed this as well and looked livid. She walked towards the boy and demanded that he apologize to the old woman.
He just stared back at her, the smirk on his face now widening into a grin.
“Chloe don’t….. get back!” I yelled, but it was too late.
He attacked her, and she hit the pavement hard. Before I could make another move, he managed to kick her in the stomach and face. And then ran back 20 feet.
When I got to her, I saw blood streaming down her nose, her face was already swollen and she was bleeding from the gums as well. A volcano of anger erupted within me.
I felt an unbridled fury simmering in my head, as I watched the boy laughing from a distance holding up Chloe’s phone, dangling it by his fingertips.
Chloe clutched tightly at my arm and said, “Honey, don’t. He’s just a kid. Let’s just …..”
But I was already half way across in pursuit, running as fast as I could.
The kid was quick on his feet and zig zagged his way through the bustling sidewalk, casually pushing unsuspecting pedestrians, and toppling trash cans along the way - all in an effort to slow me down. But I managed to keep pace with him.
A couple of blocks later, he took a sharp left turn to enter an alleyway and looked back to check if I was following.
He then slowed down to a saunter, mockingly gesturing to me with his hands that he was waiting for me to catch up, before turning a blind corner and disappearing from view.
The alarm bells began to immediately go off in my brain. I was standing in a deserted alley chasing a kid, who clearly was up to no good.
Every instinct in me warned that I was walking into a trap, but my legs defied reason as I continued to move forward.
All I could see was Chloe’s face in shock, looking bloodied and vulnerable, and I couldn’t shake that image out of my head.
I wasn’t even sure what I would do if I managed to get a hold of the boy, but I continued on anyway and turned the corner. It led to a dingy parking lot where close to 10 people lay in wait.
I saw the boy standing next to a man dressed in a dark grey hoodie with the hood pulled up, obscuring part of his face in the shadow. The man, unmistakably the leader of the pack, was resting comfortably against the bonnet of a car.
For a second, I contemplated turning tail and making a quick retreat. But three of his henchmen were ready and had their guns trained at me.
I felt like a little rat that had been lured to the edge of a cliff, only to realize at the last moment that there was no way back.
One of the henchmen, a chubby figure, walked towards me with his gun pointed at my face.
He was clad in a black leather jacket adorned with silver studs. He had rings on all his fingers, and a thick gold chain swung around his neck.
As he frisked me, the henchman fumbled my wallet, causing it to slip and fall to the floor.
With a frustrated grunt, he swiftly swooped down to retrieve it before resuming his search for weapons.
Finally satisfied, he grabbed the back of my shirt and pushed me forward to continue walking.
“Stand right there!” he said, as I reached the middle of the parking lot, surrounded by gangsters on all sides, dressed in oversized hoodies and baggy jeans.
“Yo, Jamal, what’s the move on this one?” he inquired, waving his firearm in my direction.
The leader of the pack got down from the bonnet and slowly stretched his limbs.
He was a well-built man in his early thirties with heavily tattooed forearms. His baggy jeans hung low on his hips, emphasizing his muscular frame, while a pair of black combat boots added to his imposing demeanor.
My eyes next darted to the two people flanking him on either side. To his right, was the kid who had lured me in, and was still looking mighty pleased with himself.
The guy to his left, however, wore a worried look on his face and was about the same age as the gangster. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, seamlessly tucked into sharply creased trousers, and paired with well-maintained Oxford shoes. He stood out in this milieu like a sore thumb.
“Jamal please …. don’t do this,” he suddenly spoke while adjusting his horn rimmed glasses, desperation evident in his voice.
The gangster casually threw his arm around the little kid and smiled at him.
”Rashad, what’s the matter with your brother?” he asked in a soft voice while feigning an air of innocence.
“He seems all wound up. Is he always like this at home too?”
The boy rolled his eyes and nodded in acknowledgment, as if he had been waiting all day for someone to ask him that very question about his brother. He replied, “Like, all the time! It’s so annoying Mr Jamal”
“Sunny, you catch that? Your kid bro ain't givin' you much credit huh?”
“Someone's really turnin' a new chapter here," Jamal quipped, while casting a quick glance at the person standing next to him. .
Sunny just dropped his head in silence. The weight of the moment hung heavily on his shoulders, and a sense of impending doom settled around the desolate parking lot.
Lines of worry were etched across his forehead, and it was clear he would rather be anywhere but here.
“Please Jamal” he begged, as he continued to look at the floor and that was all he could muster.
“What!” the gangster asked all fired up.
“You are one who came into my office today after all these years. You wanted me to go easy on your lil brother… let him break free from the gang…. right?”
“RIGHT?” he repeated again, demanding a reply from him this time.
Sunny simply nodded his head a couple of times in silence.
“A’right, I hear you. I hear you!“ remarked Jamal, fervently nodding back in acknowledgment.
“So here’s your shot. Take him out,” Jamal said, pointing his finger at me. “And then take your brother home. And that’s the end of that.”
I felt a bottomless pit in my stomach when I suddenly realized I had walked into a gang initiation, and that I was their lamb meant for the slaughter this evening.
All this while, I had feared a robbery was about to take place, accompanied possibly by a vicious beating. But this was turning out to be so much worse than I had imagined.
“We ain’t got all night Sunny. You need to make a choice. So what’s it gonna be?”
“ Your brother Rashad’s freedom for this man’s life. Ain’t gonna get simpler than that,“ Jamal declared in a matter of fact manner.
Sunny finally lifted his head and began to speak, the strain in his voice slowly fading away as he summoned the courage to voice his thoughts.
“Jamal, that is not how things are going to play out. And you know that, and you know that I do too. If I were to shoot this man, whom I have never met in my life before, it would anyway be recorded on a camera by one of your boys.”
“And it would be later used as leverage to get me to work for you permanently. So how is this going to work?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration.
“Alright, you got me, I confess!” Jamal said, sarcastically throwing his hands up in exasperation while also casually winking at his crew.
“So, here’s what you can do. You can simply trade your freedom for your brothers’ by takin down that man. I don’t care either way. It’s the best deal you gonna get,” he said, pointing his hand at me a second time.
“Jamal, please, … listen..” Sunny began.
“Listen to what Sunny?” Jamal snapped back in anger.
”You think I'm some kinda fool?”
“This ain’t some whorehouse that you can come and go as you please. I got a rep to protect here. If you think my world is so damn bad, you should’ve schooled that kid better. And I ain’t gonna push him away if he lands at my doorstep on his own. This is on you, Sunny, for not holding it down as his brother.”
Jamal leaned against a car, casually bidding his time amidst the uneasy silence that followed.
He was holding Chloe’s phone, and kept turning it subconsciously with his hand while glaring at Sunny.
The two clearly had a history that stretched back many years.
I could also see that he was a calculative man, aiming to arrive at the best possible outcome in his favour. And he had Sunny exactly where he wanted, and was now slowly turning the screws on him.
“What can I do to make this right, Jamal?” Sunny finally asked a few moments later, determined to work out a solution.
“Come work for me. Be my numbers guy. I always knew you had the smarts.”
“In fact, you was supposed to roll with me in the game, promote my product, and help me expand our operations.”
“I invested in you Sunny, thinking you had the loyalty to rise with me and even sent you to a fancy school, all on my own dime. But nah, you had to suddenly catch a conscience outta nowhere, and look where it got you.”
“I paid you back in full for my education Jamal, and that too with interest” Sunny interjected.
“This ain’t just about the money, you fool!” Sunny shot back.
“I treated you like my own brother. You were my homie, and you turned your back on me and the crew.”
“All for what?”
“ For a piece of ass?”
“And where she at now? She’s dead and buried six feet under.”
Jamal then turned around in his tracks to face his crew and started speaking again in a slightly mocking tone.
“Our man, the hot shot banker here, then quits his job and permanently walks away from the corporate scene. Only to hit up the same public school his girl used to grind at, now dealing day and night with them tough kids from the street."
“And homie’s been busy ever since – forever, living under his dead girl’s shadow.”
Jamal slowly turned around to face Sunny.
“And what do you have to show for it huh?”
“Your own brother's knocking on my door, hungry for a slice.”
Jamal's gaze bore into Sunny, the weight of his words hanging thick in the air.
“We could’ve ruled the streets Sunny. Lived like kings. But nah, you had to throw it all away.” Jamal said, shaking his head, making sure his disapproval was known for everyone to see.
“Anyways, that’s enough chat for the night. Give the man his piece. Let’s get the ball rolling.”
One of his henchmen then removed a sidearm from the small of his back and forced it into Sunny’s hand.
“I can’t go through with this Jamal,” Sunny said, finally locking eyes with his one-time friend.
“You don’t have to. You’re free to leave. But your brother? He’s staying.”
“Got some big moves planned for him," Jamal responded, breaking into a grin.
"Yo, young blood. You down to hustle and earn your spot?" he queried out loud to Rashad.
The kid fervently nodded back. The young boy's face immediately lit up when Jamal directly addressed him.
“You really need to leave my brother alone, Jamal. Your beef is with me, and I’m here. You can take it out on me. Let him go. He needs no part in this.” Sunny spoke, still trying to be the voice of reason.
“Stop wasting my time Sunny. What needed to be said has been said. Now either get to it, or leave,” Jamal retorted.
He flicked his fingers again to signal one of his boys who came and stood next to Sunny, and aimed his gun a couple of metres away from his head.
A few seconds of silence followed as Sunny assessed the situation while holding a gun in his hand.
“How am I supposed to shoot this man? I don’t even know him.” he suddenly protested, waving his hand in my direction while looking at Jamal.
"Oh, like you would have otherwise jumped into action if it was a rival? You've always been the squeamish sort when it comes to confrontations.”
“So, I told Rashad to pick a noob from the street …… just for you.”
“Thought it would help ease the friction between you two. You know, foster a bonding moment between siblings," Jamal remarked with a smirk, leading to small fits of laughter all around.
“But hey, you really wanna know about him? I got this right here.” Jamal said while holding up Chloe’s phone in his hand, and started scrolling through it.
“Well, well, well…. what do we have here ….Look!” he said, turning the phone towards us.
It had a picture of me and Chloe beaming, with her pointing towards the new rock on her finger.
“Our man just got engaged today. Timestamps say Chloe and Marty here.”
“Congratulations Marty!”
“Cute couple! I must say!!”
Sunny’s shoulders sank further as he stood gripping the gun in one hand, his eyes shut in contemplation, while the other hand pressed hard against his temple as he massaged it.
Things just got more awkward for my only well-wisher in this isolated parking lot.
“Enough with this shit” Jamal said, putting the phone away.
“KENNY, START THE COUNTDOWN.”
When Kenny emerged from the side-lines, I realized he was the same gangster who had first frisked me when I stumbled into the parking lot.
“TEN!!” the man yelled at the top of his voice, as the countdown started.
“NINE!!”
“EIGHT!!”
All eyes were on Sunny now. The gun in his hand was still pointed at the floor, but the man was deep in thought despite the pressure building around him.
Sunny then slowly turned around to face Jamal. His face for the first time looking calm, but serious.
“So this is how it’s going to go down. After all that we have been through, after everything my family has done for you, this is how you repay my mother. She took you in when you had nowhere else to go. She clothed you and fed you when you were abandoned by your own folks and this is the gratitude you show to her, to her family?” Sunny asked, his voice was calm, yet ice cold.
“I DON’T OWE YOU OR YOUR FAMILY SHIT!!” roared Jamal suddenly standing upright.
The sarcasm and the half smiles were gone, replaced instead by an intense anger that travelled deep.
He walked towards Sunny and grabbed his shirt, slamming him against the hood of a nearby car.
Jamal had his fist raised in the air ready to strike, but continued to glare at Sunny.
“When you wanted to call it quits, I let you go didn’t? I never bothered you thereafter. Even when you lost everything and wound up a loser, I let you be and your family be.”
“And what you expect for gratitude huh? You want me to roll over on the floor cos your mommy fed me some sandwiches and lemonade for a few weeks?” Jamal asked, as he finally let go of him.
“Nobody gets to leave my crew once you’re in. But I made an exception for your sorry ass.”
“ Nah, I don’t owe you or your family nothin no more.”
“But you did me dirty with this cheap talk and I am pissed now.” Jamal said walking to and fro, his frustration mounting with each step.
“SEVEN!!”
“SIX!!”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH KENNY!!”
The parking lot suddenly became deathly quiet while Jamal took a moment to compose himself.
His henchmen looked nervously at each other while their boss stood in silent contemplation.
Jamal then turned around and slowly walked over to his old friend and began speaking again.
“Tell you what, terms have changed. Now you and your brother are both gonna work for me. There’s no escape. And you still have to take that man down. If you don’t, you and Rashad both will catch a bullet to the head.”
“So what’s it gonna be Sunny?” Jamal asked after a moment’s silence.
“One for the price of two, or two for the price of one?”
“I’ll let you decide.” Jamal finished, the street’s cold logic echoing in his ultimatum.
He then instructed one of his henchmen, Kenny, to go and stand behind the boy. The pudgy gangster didn’t look happy at all with the new task at hand.
“But boss, he’s just a kid...” Kenny said, expressing concern.
“Do as you’re told Kenny!” Jamal barked at him.
Kenny groaned and deliberately dragged his feet, making a point to express his discontent regarding his latest assignment.
Jamal just stared at Kenny in silence, his eyes piercing like a thousand daggers, hinting of future repercussions.
The boy Rashad looked bewildered and confused as well, when he saw Kenny approach him with a gun aimed at him. He really wanted to protest but decided to keep quiet for the moment when he saw the look of fury on Jamal’s face.
Two more henchmen joined the fray next.
One had his gun trained at Sunny, while another walked over to my position, aiming his weapon at me.
Another took out his phone to film the event that was about to unfold.
Jamal then yelled “KENNY!” and the countdown started once again.
“TEN!!”
Right then, I knew my time was up, and there was no way out of this mess now. I looked at the man standing just a few feet away from me.
“Sunny” I called out to him.
“It’s okay” I said, nodding my head to reassure him that it was fine, and that it was not his fault. He looked me in the eye and asked me only one question.
“Do you love her?”
“Yes.” I said, and he simply looked down while silently nodding his head in acknowledgement.
“EIGHT!!”
“Please close your eyes, Marty,” Sunny said, holding his gun up at me. I could see his hand mildly tremble as he aimed the weapon at my chest.
I clenched my fists into a ball by my sides and closed my eyes, waiting for the moment to pass. Each second felt like forever, while the heart in my chest pounded like a drum.
“FIVE!!”
“Bro! What you doin? Pull the trigger!” Rashad suddenly exclaimed in exasperation.
“What you waitin for? Hes’s got a gun to my head. Your own flesh and blood. And you are debating whether to pick me over a stranger!”
“Come on Sunny!! SHOOT THAT MAN!!”
Even with my eyes closed, I could feel the tension in the parking lot as the kid kept screaming at his brother, urging him to pull the trigger.
“FOUR!!”
“THREE and THREE QUARTERS!!”
“THREE and a HALF!!””
“KENNNNYY!!!
“THREE!!
“Dad always knew you was weak. He said you didn’t have what it took to survive in the streets. I feel him now. I really do”
“Pull the goddamn trigger Sunny!!”
“For once in your life, like dad always used to say – Be a Man!!”
. “MAN UP SUNNYY!!!”
“MANNNN UUPP!!”
Rashad was practically screaming now at the top of his lungs
“TWO!!”
Even as I stood with my eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable to happen, I suddenly heard a metallic object drop to the concrete floor.
BANG!!
BANG!!
I immediately opened my eyes, desperately running my hands over my chest to check if I had been shot, and saw Rashad’s body on the floor with a bullet to his head.
“What the fuck Kenny ….what did you do!” screamed Jamal rushing over to where Kenny stood.
Kenny looked around with a bewildered look on his face.
“I don’t know boss…I was sure I heard a gunshot from behind me or somewhere.” he said, still looking around puzzled.
“No you dumb ass, look ….” Jamal said clutching Kenny’s chin and pointing it upwards.
There was a sudden burst of fireworks in the sky. It probably startled Kenny, causing him to accidently open fire on the kid.
“How was I to know that boss …. It all happened so …suddenly” Kenny protested, looking equally upset.
Jamal let out a deep sigh and turned around to see his old friend seated on the floor, clutching at the lifeless body of his brother.
He sat with his head arched back, his eyes wide open and submerged under an ocean of sorrow.
Everything around him had come to a standstill, as he gasped for air to come to terms with his grief.
The gun he had dropped to the floor, by refusing to engage, still lay in front of him just a few feet away.
I continued to watch helplessly, even as I felt sick to my stomach, overwhelmed by an outpouring of guilt within me.
And then, just like how the high tide eventually gives rise to the low, Sunny began to come to terms with the reality around him.
I realized in moments like these, people first shut out the world by building a wall around them, allowing grief to engulf them completely.
Even the conversations happening around them fade into the background becoming like distant echoes.
But the sounds do not simply dissolve into the ether, they instead hover around patiently waiting for the right moment to re-engage.
And when the wall finally breaks down, they surge right through, engulfing the senses in a cascade of raw emotions.
In a split second, I saw a madness for vengeance ignite in his eyes, and Sunny swiftly reached for the gun.
But Jamal was ready and fired three shots in quick succession, killing him instantly.
The sound of gunfire this time being drowned out by the continuous explosion of fireworks that had by now, become a constant presence across the night sky.
Jamal’s broad shoulders drooped as he stood by the lifeless body of his one-time friend. He then quickly turned around and walked towards me with gun in hand.
He caught me by my hair and yanked my head back, shoving the barrel of his gun into my mouth. As he continued to stare at me, I saw a tear trickle down the corner of his eye.
“What am I to do with you Marty?” Jamal asked me.
“On any given day, I would’ve just taken you out when shit went sideways, but you’re knee deep in this mess now. A payment has been made to keep you breathin.”
“A new bond has been forged between the dead and the living.”
I remained motionless not knowing how to react. One of his goons then urged him to deal with my situation quickly, cautioning the cops could arrive at any minute.
“Are you planning on becoming a problem, Marty?” Jamal asked me softly. I slowly shook my head from side-to-side signalling no.
“You walkin a tight rope Marty, I don’t wanna see you slip.” he warned me, and I slowly nodded in understanding.
Jamal removed the gun from my mouth, and put it back in his jacket. He got his guys to return Chloe’s phone and my wallet back to me.
“Well then, one for the price of two it is!” he said, before turning around to walk back to his car.
As he moved away, my eyes darted towards Sunny’s body and I felt my stomach twist into knots again.
I knew I had a huge moral dilemma on my hands that would leave me sleepless for many nights.
‘Should I walk away without looking back? Or should I try and fight to get justice for the man who’s the reason I am alive right now?’
I realized going to the cops could be risky since it would not only endanger my life but also the lives of people who were close to me.
‘What are you going to do, Marty?’ I asked myself in silence.
As I contemplated my future, Jamal reversed his car and slowed down as he approached me to speak one last time.
At that very moment, a familiar dread slowly began to seize my body. My throat started to go dry when my legs suddenly turned stiff, as if being weighed down by lead. While my hands trembled at my sides, I saw a pale translucent figure sitting in the backseat of the car.
As beads of sweat formed around my forehead, I stole a glance at the spot where I last saw him lying lifeless. Only his blood stained horn rimmed glasses remained on the floor now. A couple of goons were busy carrying his body and loading it into the trunk of their vehicle.
With my heart pounding rapidly in my chest, I looked inside the car again to find Sunny sitting calmly in the backseat. The palms of his hand were resting lightly on his knees, but his gaze was all focused on the person sitting in front of him.
Meanwhile, Jamal was looking at me, totally oblivious to the other passenger in his car.
“Happy New Year!” Jamal said to me, before driving off into the darkness.

I’m just wondering about your guys opinions of them as a podcast alone and with suburb talks.
This is my OPINION, and there’s prob no way u can change it lol? 😭
Honestly I’ve been put off both of their podcasts, it is literally the definition of brainrot. Viet just talks about how he’s a past gangster and he’s a womaniser and allat. I cannot stand wootak, he has a massive know-it-all personality esp when he was on the ST podcast. Esther is just cute tbh can reallyyyy fault her.
Also when they mention their past relationships and how wootak and viet used to date and have sex with a lot of women I was confused. Genuinely confused. They are the most average looking asian dudes. Wootak looks like an uncle and Viet looks like a skinny gangsta wannabe. Who are these girls chasing after them what😭
That’s my opinion lol, I just can’t stand them, and the podcasts are literally brainrot, I was 3 years episodes because I thought it would be better but no. I feel like it’s the same thing sprinkled over a new topic.

-they love the spooky special effects, B says Kendra looked evil in the one edit, Kendra says it was creepy
-K misses playing soccer, (when it shows her bobble head playing soccer) asks for someone to find her a team to play on
-H says she would love to make a documentary on Glamourcon when in the ep B is doing her haunted documentary
-H says she’s still waiting to show Pam Anderson the Pam Anderson room, “so if you wanna drop by Pam, anytime!”
-K says “that chick was hilarious” about Elvira, B says she can’t believe she got to meet Elvira, H says “I know it’s so funny!”
-K says her mom used to watch Elvira’s show
-H says Elvira’s hair is so funny
-B wants to take pics on Elvira’s set, H agrees Elvira’s set is cool and she likes the dagger belt
-when K is saying in the show that it’s kind of hot that Elviras boobs are out, in commentary K says that’s why people think she’s a lesbian, the girls agree saying K is often saying “damnn she’s so hot” etc - K says something about Qiana and B remembers K said somewhere that if she had to be a lesbian it would be with Qiana, K goes “ohhh! That’s what it is then!”
-H says fans wrote in about Elvira joking about becoming a girlfriend, taking it seriously all “if hef gets another gf it should NOT be Elvira!”
-B says people thought Elvira was mean to her, B didn’t feel that way
-the plastic halloween statue outside Bridget’s door that Elvira first says is great, but not so great after touching it and realizing it’s plastic - they say Hef got it for B as a gift, K said she thought it was the most random gift when B opened it, B says it was one of her Christmas gifts they all laugh about it
-H asks B if ppl are weirded out by the bassinet in her room, B says no one’s ever said a word
-H says the pumpkin carving sequence is not her favourite because it’s a repeat of the easter egg decorating episode
-K says she’s pissed her football pumpkin didn’t work out, H says it was cute in the end
-H says she was Shirley Temple if you couldn’t tell what she was dressed up as at the pumpkin carving
-H says this was actually filmed 2 halloweens ago
-K says she really did think her football pumpkin would work out, not bullshit she really thought it would turn out
-Kendra is laughing at herself still trying to cut the football laces when the centre part is detached from the pumpkin
-H says “who’s that girl kissing on Hefs back” when it briefly shows a woman rubbing Hefs back, B says “yea she’s all up on Hef!”
-K says her fav haunted tour was at the Queen Mary, they all say it was so fun
-K says they should have a Tupac tour when the show mentions visiting Marilyn Monroe’s grave
-K says this tour was fun too but the hearse was making her a little car sick
-K says she wants a new car, H asks what kind? K says an old fashioned car or an old school chevy, H says she wants a hybrid Volkswagen Beetle, she loves convertible beetles
-H says she wanted to do Jackie Ho costume for a long time, and she finally designed it and they made it for her, and she loves it
-K says it was so hot the day they did this tour, and there was no A/C in the back of the hearse
-B says they should call Volkswagen with Hollys idea of a hybrid Beetle - H says she called a Volkswagen dealership and asked if they were planning on coming out with a hybrid soon, and the person who answered said NO and hung up on H. They were rude. B says but they have an in with real Volkswagen people, not just a dealer, since volkswagen sponsored their playboy back cover. B wants a pink one and H wants a white convertible with slap on pink heart stickers. “If they made cute hybrids everybody would drive a hybrid. If you want to save the world make cute hybrids.”
-they all liked the purple hearse “Kargoyle”, B says they were pretty gangster in it
-they talk about an upcoming Black Dahlia movie based on a book they hope will be good, better than another one that recently came out
-they say the owners of the house where the black dahlia was found must be annoyed by them taking photos on their front lawn
-H says the Alexandria hotel was the creepiest place they visited on the tour
-B says the guy (Marty) said he would invite them to the Halloween event at the Alexandria, but they didn’t get invited and the event did happen, H & B say the guy was not on it! (Or was this one of the opportunities/invites that they kept from the girls??? Hmmmmmm)
-K says the guy Marty who was giving them a tour, she didn’t like him - he kind of pissed her off. The girls ask why? K says he didn’t listen to her when she said they should recreate this in a beautiful hotel. And then later on Bridget said the same thing and Marty says “yea you’re right Bridget!” What am I some invisible person or something? I had to leave the room!
-H says they didn’t get on camera the lady who walked into their tour, she looked like she crawled out of the grudge or the ring
-H likes the picture B takes of her, B says yea it’s a good one
-H says when they got back in the hearse some girls walked by “Who’s in there?! Paris Hilton!!!” They all laugh
-they laugh about Martini (Kendra’s dog) being freaked out by the robotic bird, H loves seeing moments she wasn’t there for on camera
-K says this past years Halloween she passed out drunk in the casket, H says she thinks she did hear about that
-B laughs about herself painted in blue getting ready for corpse bride calling herself a Smurf
-K says “oh no” at her slow motion ass shaking in her micro mini costume “they put that in slow motion!” Laughs
-B loves her corpse bride costume, so does H and K
-they say Tiffany is the best Wonder Woman ever - H says ya and best Snow hWhite
-someone imitates Paris’ voice “hi Hef” (Holly?) when it shows Paris at the party
-they love the footage of Leonardo DiCaprio and Tobey McGuire in the old man masks, H says then they came as monkeys and were break dancing this year
-H wants to see the break dancing footage! B says she has to rewatch the party footage anyways so she can look for a girl who stole the pizza “she’s banned!” H says yea!, and that they ordered the pizza special for their table at the party, and there’s food everywhere at the party, Hef will want special things and he should have it is his house - but these girls reached over them, grabbed their pizza and ran. B says they were eating it like they’ve never ate before in their life
-they love the dance heads virtual head thing at the party
-B and H say the Halloween party is the best
-“OH MY GOD” says K when it shows Kendra aggressively dancing/body rolling a cornered girl 😂 H says who is that girl it looks like she’s crying 🤣 K says it’s Nikki
-B and H say they loved that episode

I know Nettspend is a gangster and he stands on business... but I feel like he might be lying about his lean intake. He's a pretty petite guy and I feel like if he was actually pourin up that drank he would have more of a tum-tum. Which, to be honest, would be pretty cute on him. Well, I sure hope the Virginia grim reaper doesn't jump me for saying all this, because if so, this might be the last time you ever hear from me. Signing off, Coochieminer123.

First / Previous / Next
Fen looked at the racks and racks of clothes in the store and sighed.
When Northern said that Fen 'owed her' she had no idea that part of paying that back was going... shopping.
Starbase Picaresque was an old, old station. Built around first contact with the K'laxi, it had undergone many different iterations. A science station, a seat of colonial government and even a bullwark in a few wars, these days it lead a much more... touristy life. Fine dining, shopping, and all inclusive entertainment were what it was known for these days. Out on the border between human and k'laxi space it was also where the closest Gate to human space was.
Such a nexus naturally lent itself to a comingling of sapients. When it was just the humans and k'alxi, there was an unusually high amount of integration. These days many different peoples call this place home, though most of them are here to work at all the different venues that are hosted.
Northern loved clothing. Fen had no idea when she first signed on because she packed so lightly, but as they settled and continued to work together, Northern's clothing hobby grew. Fen was much more of a practical, hard wearing clothes person, so this was a new experience for her.
Zhe was more interested than Fen was, and Picaresque had more than ample supplies of haute k'laxi fashion, so both of them were able to meander from store to store, eyeing outfits that would have made Fen's eyes water at the price when she lived at home.
Northern came out of the dressing room clad head to toe in a ball gown made of iridescent feathers. Fen had no idea what animal produced them, or even if the animal was real, but she shone when she walked, and as she spun, the long dress flashed and sparkled. "What do you think?"
"It's very... bright" Fen squinted as Northern spun again."
"Eeee, it's amazing Northern! Are you going to get it?" Zhe's tail swished as she squealed in joy.
"I don't know. I love it, but when would I wear it? It's not like we go out to dinner very often."
"We'll just have to start going out more, that's all!" Zhe said. She was carrying two or three bags of her own. She had already purchased two outfits and three pairs of shoes.
As the women talked logistics of how to use luxury gowns, Fen looked longingly towards the exit. As she did, she noticed a commotion outside.
There were a group of 5 women talking and gesturing animatedly. "Come on Meredith! I've heard of this place! They're supposedly the best in the outer colony worlds!" One of the woman, with long brown hair pointed at the store Fen was dying of boredom in.
"All right Emery, let's go see what they have and if it can even compare to Ganymede." said the woman in the center of the group. All of them wore similar outfits - uniforms really - though the young woman in the middle was wearing jewelry that was much more expensive. Fen had an eye for jewelry. Even growing up she was able to tell the cheap stuff from the expensive. It gave her a leg up when people asked her about stuff 'they found.'
The women poured into the shop and started talking all at once. Immediately Fen could smell the alcohol. If it was just another wine-soaked party it was one of a higher class. Stores like this tended to cater to people who spent a yearly salary on one outfit. Northern walked over to Fen and watched them, a robotic tailor shuffling after her and trying to fit the dress while she was still wearing it. "Who are those people, Fen?"
Fen shook her head. "Just some group of rich women day drinking I think. They have Sol accents. Probably out on a girl's weekend or something. The one in the middle is wearing very expensive jewelry though, check out that necklace she has on. That sapphire could probably buy a frigate."
Northern narrowed her eyes as she watched them stagger around the store. "Shit." She grabbed Fen by the shoulders and turned her around and marched her back to Zhe. "We gotta go. Now."
"What? Why?" Zhe was halfway dressed into a similar gown as Northern, but with a more k'laxi flare. Another tailor kept weaving as Zhe moved around.
"That's the Empress." Northern hissed.
Fen turned back to look at them. "Don't look at them!" Northern's voice rose. Fen turned back. "What? Her? The rich girl with the short hair?"
Northern nodded vigorously. "I'd bet anything that's her."
"Zhe peered around Northern. "Who is with her?"
"Some kind of honor guard or something. They probably are all super soldiers or something."
Zhe's tail flicked. "Are you sure? They look like party girls. They also look drunk."
"What?" As Northern turned to look at them again, she saw one of them taking a large drink from an unmarked bottle. The drinker passed it to the Empress who took a healthy belt of the beverage as well. "What the fuck?"
"Ancestors look at that dress! It's unbelievable!" Before they could react, the women came up to Fen and Northern and Zhe.
"Did you get that here?"
"What are those feathers?"
"Is that custom? It fits you so well!"
"Do you want to go shopping with us?"
Fen blinked. "W-what?"
One of the women nodded. She had hair that was half shaved and te rest combed up. She looked very rakish. "You three are cute, and you clearly have good taste. Well, except your bodyguard here-" she pointed at Fen "-but I won't hold that against you. Come shop and drink with us. My name is Alina, and this is is Kerry, and this is Emery, this is Tina she's Meredith." Alina pointed to Meredith, who was getting fitted for a dress by now.
"Uh, sure, okay." Fen said. Northern elbowed her in the ribs.
"Fancy! Come on. Meredith says she knows of the best place to get dinner. We were on our way there when we saw this place."
The ladies swarm Meredith while she gets fitted, offering suggestions and compliments. Northern crowds close to Fen. "Why did you say yes?" she hissed.
"I-I... don't know. If she's the Empress, maybe we should get to know her better."
"Fen you have an Empress Nanite package. Who knows what happens if you two get together. Who even knows if she still has hers. What do you think will happen if she finds out you have Nanites?"
Whatever happens, it will be interesting
Ugh, quite you. She thinks. "We're just being polite. We'll go out to dinner, get the bill picked up by the Empress of Sol, and be on our way. It'll be an experience. A story we'll tell over drinks."
"Also, she's pretty cute" Zhe adds, back in her regular clothes. "You think she's single?" She gasps "Do you think she likes k'laxi?" Her fur ripples a blush "Do you think she'll like me?"
"Easy there Zhe. Don't go trying to sleep with the Empress of Sol just yet. You haven't even met her officially." Northern laughs. "Though, it would be perfect if the Empress wound up dating a k'laxi. They are notoriously... xenophobic these days." She shrugs her shoulders. "You know what? Fine. We'll go to dinner and talk to them. It looks like only two of them are armed, and it's just concealed pistols. Heavy weapons aren't allowed on Picaresque anyway, so there is only so much damage they can do. She must be here unofficially because nobody had made any changes or attempts to bow and scrape."
"What?" Zhe looks confused.
"Zhe, if she's the Empress, then she should have like-" Northern gestures weakly "- a whole flotilla with her. Dreadnaughts, Super Dreadnaughts, honor guard, battalions of soldiers, nobles, all that kind of stuff. Just her and 4 ladies getting day drunk while shopping isn't very... imperial. Maybe she's just here quietly to try and not be Empress for a little while."
"So we should not admit to recognizing her?"
"Nah, we're just going to act like she's a normal ultra rich person with some friends."
"Northern, if you recognized her, surely others did?" Fen watches them continue to try on clothes, piling their purchases on top of the patient arms of another tailor bot.
"Maybe. But I imagine that half of the recognition people would have is of the pomp, not the person. By herself, she's just another young woman. I bet she isn't as recognized as you think. Also, anyone who does recognize her is probably worried about what would happen if they pointed it out. Her mother was... notorious about that kind of thing."
"What kind of thing?" Zhe looks up at Northern.
Northern makes an old gesture. She sticks out her thumb and draws it across her neck.
"Yeah, so. watch yourselves around her. She might be nice... or she might be nice until we say something she doesn't like." Northern frowns slightly. "I dont' like it."
They exit the store and stand around while Meredith and her crew finishes shopping. They come out a quarter hour later with almost as many bags as Zhe and Northern have. "Come on, it's this way" Alia signals as they start walking.
She leads them down the promenade towards the common area in the front. In Picaresque, the common is a large garden with a unique blend of Earth and K'laxi plants. There are subtle barriers to keep the Earth plants from taking over, but it all looks very natural and integrated. At Meredith's direction, Alina leads them towards a very elegant looking restaurant at the edge of the common. Fully half of the restaurant is in the common, open tables and booths interspersed among the plants, trees and water of the common. Alina and... Kerry heads up to the maître d' and speak to him in a low voice. Kerry gestures back towards the group and his eyes widen in surprise. He quickly nods and snaps his fingers.
Out of seemingly nowhere, three servers appear carrying a large table already set with a white linen tablecloth. They bring it out to a corner of the restaurant and slide the already existing tables and chairs out of the way. The evening is young and the restaurant isn't full, but they do have to shoo a few guests away towards another part of the restaurant. The maître d' clucking apologetically at them as they're settled elsewhere.
Before any time at all passes, the table is set with seats and table service for everyone. As they sit, the sommelier appears with a cart clinking gently with bottles. He presents a list - real, actual paper - to Meredith and she looks it over with a critical eye. She discusses a few things with the sommelier, and he nods solemnly. He looks up and makes eye contact with the maître d' and two more carts of wine are immediately brought out. A selection of 4 bottles are put on the table and opened. Meredith is poured a small sample which she sniffs, swirls, sniffs again and takes a tentative sip. She smiles broadly and the sommelier visibly relaxes. He leaves a cart of bottles next to her and wheels the other two away. Servers pour the wine - quite a healthy pour if Fen is any judge - and they all take a drink.
"To new friends!" One of the hangers on - Tina maybe? - toasts. Everyone mumbles agreement and drinks. Northern is very delicate with her sips; she told Fen she can eat and drink, but she doesn't like it much. Zhe demures as while the alcohol won't hurt her, the other compounds in the wine absolutely will and Fen takes a healthy sip. It's sour and fruity and dark and tastes of berries and dark chocolate and really is quite good. By the time she puts her glass down, Meredith is pouring another and her friends are most of the way through theirs as well.
Dinner is... an extended affair. It seems that Kerry told them who they were dealing with - if not outright saying she was the Empress then at least impressing how important she is - and the restaurant went all out. No menus, purely a menu based on the best ingredients the chef had as well as things for Zhe to eat, artfully prepared on fine china plates. More wine is poured as needed and Fen takes care of Zhe's glasses and eventually, Northerns and by dessert she's quite drunk.
"Tell me Fen, what's it's like being a mercenary?" Tina is staring at her, with her hands on her chin. Her eyes are deep and her cheeks are flushed. Is she blushing or drunk? Fen can't tell.
"s' not so bad. Lotsa assholes in the galaxy, and they need us to do something or other. Mos' of the time we're just bringing shi from one part of space to another. Somtimes people, sometimes boxes." Fen takes another sip of her wine, and Northern frowns - Fen didn't see it though. "Pays all right, and s' not tha hard. Bettern where I was before though."
Meredith perks up. "Oh? Where were you before?"
Zhe and Northern snap to Fen. "Oh, I was on some shihole station way out in Gren space. Grew up in a k'laxi family, had a wife, the whole deal." Fen's face darkens. "Then she was killed by some gangsters and I got the hell out of there. Guy helped me out too, but then dumped me into an escape pod outside Minaren. I wish I could see him again. Everything worked out, but man oh man was I pissed."
Fen looks around at everyone and takes another gulp of wine. As she puts her glass down, she sees someone walking behind the group in the common.
It's Gord.
"Holy shit! GORD! You shithead!" Fen jumps up out of her chair, knocking it over and launches herself over the elegant topiary as Gord looks up at his name being called in surprise.
Fen is too drunk to connect, and crashes into him bodily.

~First~
HHH/Herbert’s Hundred Harem
“Alright, call the police, we have a body here. Water Erumenta, Female. Skin colour green, hair bright blue. Sufficient time has passed for the Erumenta effect on her hair to fade suggesting she has been dead for multiple hours at minimum. Physical age early to mid twenties. Pool of partially dried blood visibly disturbed to suggest the body was moved shortly after death but not immediately. Clothing is dark, predominantly dark blue, and in the semi-frilled Habra Style that was in season three seasons ago.” He says into his communicator as he walks around the body and squats down. “Sending a picture of the deceased’s face now.”
He takes the picture and moves around her again. Refusing to step in the blood or disturb the body, but examining it closely. “The lethal wound has a significant heat profile with burnt clothing near the edge. Damage inconsistent with even the mildest plasma weapons. Likely a laser. Wound is at a downward angle, shows signs of being shot at point blank range. Potentially an execution.”
His initial assessment given he puts his communicator into record mode and tucks it into his jacket pocket. It’s his fourth bodycam at this rate, but it’s also his obvious one he can give to the police.
“That was professional, how many times have you done this?” Chitter asks.
“I’ve had outright training to handle this. If a contact is killed I have to be able to ascertain what killed them, why and who did it.” He answers.
“And what can you say?” She asks him.
“The why is obvious. This woman was responsible for the dead drop and someone that the drop was owed to or held her responsible for it was not happy. Now, as to who that woman was? They were either a taller species but not extremely so. Our victim here is of average height so the attack came from above. The lack of larger steam explosions means the laser was relatively low power. So putting that together it was a low power handheld laser gun practically pressed against her from above. So a taller race, or a smaller one using a vehicle or flying. The one category we can more or less count out are races the same general size.”
“How, someone could try and make a show of it?” Chitter pokes at his theory.
“She would have tried to turn. Unless... there is the idea that there were others. If someone held her still. Or had her on her knees, then this could be someone of her own race. We can’t tell without further investigation, and I’ve done what I can without stepping on the toes of the local police.” He says.
“You’re not going to just leave it though, are you?”
“Of course not, but that was just an initial observation. The next step is to inform Matilda of what’s happened and get her to help me cordon off this chunk of the scrapyard as the police get moving.” Herbert says. “Do you mind watching her please? Can you watch over the area in case some scrap hunter starts poking around and does something dumb?”
“Right, that’s easy enough.” Chitter agrees and he salutes her. “And what if someone arrives when you’re gone?”
“Cooperate with the police, be polite with civilians and stall for time while avoiding offending any criminals. Sound easy?”
“It does.” She agrees and gets another salute before he scrambles off. Much, much faster than his frame would imply.
The moment he’s out of sight a communicator starts going off. Chitter checks her own but it’s silent. The sound is a standard factory setting ring, coming from the corpse. Paralyzed with indecision she just lets it ring out before an automated message declares the communicator’s owner cannot come to the phone and requesting they leave a message. But that... that should not be playing audibly, it should be a recording playing only for the caller.
“I can see you Wimparas. Pick up the communicator before I get upset.” A low voice growls out from the other end of the line and the message then ends. Then the phone starts ringing again. Chitter slowly reaches for the communicator and pulls it out of the victim’s pocket.
“Very good. Now listen to me and listen well. I have a rail gun with a compressed trytite slug aimed right at your head. No amount of Axiom will save you from this attack. The round will be supersonic as well. Unless you have reflexes that make Rabbis seem like they’re non-responsive you’re going to do exactly what I tell you or die. Do you understand?” A voice asks and Chitter lets out a terrified whining sound. “I’ll take that as a yes. Now if you want to get out of this alive you’re going to do two things for me. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Very good. If you cooperate then in a single minute you will be off my list and I’ll never bother you again. Sound fair?”
“Yes.” She mutters before the device is suddenly pulled away from her.
“Hello? Hello hello? Who is this and why are you scaring Miss Chitter?” Herbert asks having returned under cloak and at a dead sprint the moment he had seen the visual feed in Matilda’s security centre.
“Child I have no idea where you...”
“I came from my mother. Or at least she says so, I don’t remember.” He says to buy some time. There was no way that Chitter would be as intimidated as she clearly was without some kind of threat. So he’s scanning the area hard when he spots it. An odd repetition in a nearby building’s brickwork that matches up flawlessly with the wall around it. If not for the inconsistent weathering it would have been much harder to see. But now he clearly sees through the cloaking field.
“Could you please hand the communicator back to Miss Chitter?” The woman asks.
“No.” He answers immediately.
“Why not?”
“Don’t wanna.” He pokes at her as he scans the area around him further. He also draws out a sub-vocalization patch the same colour as his skin and places it on his throat. “Hey lady, why is your voice so low? Are you sick? Do you need a doctor?”
“I do not need a doctor.” The woman states. During this Herbert whispers ‘See Ess’.
“Are you sure? It sounds like you’ve been drinking dirt.” He says. “Oh wait, do you know how that tastes? I would think that dirt is dirty right? Dirty dirt?”
Code word given a snapshot is taken from his body cams and being passed off to the incoming reinforcements. He has no doubt they’ll find whoever this woman is.
“Child, I have used up my patience with you. Cute you may be, but I am having a serious adult talk with Miss Chitter...”
“But adult talks are boring!” He protests. Now he’s just stalling for time.
“I have a gun pointed right at her, right now. If you do not give the communicator back to her I will kill her.”
“Are you really sure you want to do that?” He asks.
“Do not test me on this you little...” There is a bang as she’s cut off by Herbert quickdrawing and firing his pistol directly at her. He couldn’t actually tell where she was so his aim is ever so slightly off, but she’s been forced out of her sniper’s position out of fear of her own life.
He steadies his aim and points it to where the cloaking distortion ever so slightly moved. “That was a warning shot. Now it’s time for you to start talking Miss. Who are you, and why do you think it’s wise to do these things?”
“... Who are you?”
“I asked first, I’m also quite willing to shoot first as you just saw. You can touch me and I can touch you. Is this really what you want to deal with? Are you being paid enough to do this?” He asks her stalling for more time. He can see the slight flickers of his agents move into position. Several take up firing positions, but a pair of them creep into the building the sniper is in.
“We have her, engage?” His earpiece whispers.
“Capture if possible.” He whispers.
There is a sudden scream of protest from the other side of the communicator and he hears the sound of duct tape and zip ties being used. He gets an ‘objective achieved’ confirmation from his agents and he nods. He then turns off the communicator and turns back to Chitter. “It’s safe now. We got her.”
“What just happened?”
“I stalled for enough time for the... oh this is an awkward time for the police to show up. Mind waiting a bit on the answer so I only have to answer once?” Herbert asks.
“Can I have a very simple rundown first?”
“I was stalling for time while I got some agents in place to take her out. They got her.” He says and she nods.
“Alright, that’s enough for now. Thank you.” She says as she adjusts herself to try and calm down. “Did you have to do it that way?”
“It wouldn’t have worked so well if I didn’t look like an impertinent brat stepping into the middle of something way too big for them.” Herbert says as a police cruiser swoops down. He waves to the officer leaving the vehicle. “Hello Miss Police Woman! You got here quick!”
“I was finishing a traffic stop a short ways away.” The Platen Officer says as she walks up and takes in the scene. A pair of drones take off from her cruiser and begin scanning the area. “Now have you two interfered with the crime scene in any manner? Furthermore, how did you come across it?”
“Officer Stouthide? Am I reading that right? Trinoken is not my first language.” Herbert asks looking at her ID tag.
“You read that correctly, who are you young man?” Officer Stouthide asks and he pulls out his ID to hand to her. “Agent Jameson of The Undaunted Intelligence Division?”
“That’s correct.”
“I am Sister Chitter Dropshell.” Chitter says. “We’re here because we have concerns on how a small group of children got their hands on dangerous weapons. They claimed to find them in a sack here and when we came to investigate there was a dead body.”
“I see...” Officer Stouthide says imputing that into her communicator. “And have either of you touched the crime scene in any way?”
“I was forced to.” Chitter admits.
“Forced?” Officer Stouthide asks and Herbert holds out the communicator to her.
“That communicator was in the poor woman’s pocket. It started ringing and when it went to message it began broadcasting it out loud. Then there was an implied threat towards me if I did not answer the next call. So I did.”
“And what happened when you answered the call?” Officer Stouthide asks.
“I was told that there was a railgun with a compressed trytite slug aimed at my head, and if I didn’t cooperate I would die.” Chitter says in a haunted tone. Herbert then whispers for the poor woman to have at least one session with a professional to make sure she can get over the dread and other side effects to finding out just how at risk your life could be in at any moment.
“Then what happened?” Officer Stouthide presses.
“Before things could get any further, Agent Jameson here returned and took the phone to distract the sniper. When she began to threaten him he fired off his weapon and clearly frightened the woman. Roughly a minute later he reported her as captured and then a minute later you arrived.”
“This just JUST happened?” Officer Stouthide asks.
“Yes, in fact here come my agents with the woman now.”
“Miss Dropshell, please find a place to sit down so you can relax and decompress from this horrible situation. You Undaunted... how old are you really?”
“Thirty.”
“Are you a trained and legal adult?”
“Yes.”
“Are you capable of continuing this question and answer session?”
“Yes.” He answers and she nods before her communicator gives off a chime. “My files say that this is Ellie Torrent. Small time gangster and petty thief. No serious convictions, a few minor brawls, petty theft of course and a few mischief charges.”
“So someone in the gang scene and likely disposable enough that when the dead drop she was looking after got raided she was executed.” Herbert says and Stouthide gives him a look.
“And how did you draw that conclusion?!” She demands and he begins explaining his earlier observations followed by filling in what was in the dead drop, who took it and what he was doing here.
“And the shooter? What has happened to her?” Stouthide asks and Herbert points to where the slight distortion was. The cloaking field is gone now and it reveals that the brickwork has been vandalized with a small hole in the wall. His shot must have hit the bricks. He clucks to himself. He was so sure it was a balcony. Ah well, it just means he has more to do.
“She was over there. I managed to distract her long enough for my people to get her and... ah, here they are.” He says as an unmarked airvan descends from above. “I assume you’ll be wanting our shooter?”
“I will.” Officer Stouthide says as the van descends and the side opens.
“One shooter, as requested sir.” The grey furred Rabbis man says with a wide smile.
“Thank you Operative Bugs. Now then miss, is there anything you’d like to say?”
“I want my lawyer.” The gunner says with a twitching eye. Clearly she’s not handling this well.
“You do have a right to an attorney.” Officer Stouthide admits.
First Last Next

Previous
Chapter 2:
The Paramount was an old movie theater that had seen better days. Like a lot of family-owned classic entertainments, it had struggled to stay relevant in a world where magic let people enhance their viewing experiences psychically. Why merely watch a movie when you could experience it viscerally, first-hand? Taste the food, swing the sword, indulge in the sex. How do you compete with that?
The answer was: you didn’t. Times got hard for the Paramount and all the other businesses like it. Eventually, it shut down completely, only for the property to one day be purchased discretely by a certain gang of enterprising red and black clad freelance pharmacists. From that day on, the Vorpal Blades used the Paramount for…something. Something important, I guessed. But no one knew exactly what. And now here I was, being invited to the place. Was this an honor? Should I be flattered? Hell no. The Vorpals were scum, and I didn’t want anything to do with them. As far as I was concerned, this was just an opportunity to tell their “management” as Lucas had called his leaders, where they could stick it.
“Let’s go,” Lucas said after we pulled into the empty parking lot. He scanned the area, his eyes wary and on the lookout for trouble. That was interesting. Vitor’s mannerisms had changed too; he still seemed like a weasel, but a weasel that was ready for a scrap. That’s the thing about rodents that people should be cautious of. we might intend the use of their names as being insulting, but that didn’t mean they still weren’t vicious creatures that could tear a piece off you.
We entered through a side doorway, guarded on the inside by a vorpal wielding an automatic pistol. As I was led down a corridor to the lobby, I took note of a growing atmosphere of unease permeating throughout the place. These crooks were scared of something.
“What’s going on here, Lucas?” I asked.
“You’ll find out in a minute, Mister Paladin.”
I planted a smirk on my face at his words, although inwardly, I was beginning to feel a bit troubled. I had a reliable instinct for danger that was now setting off alarms in the back of my head. Was this anything I wanted to be a part of?
My title might not have meant anything to the world. Yet. But it meant something to me. Getting entangled with criminals could really hamper my mission. Not that I really understood the specifics of my mission other than “Do good and fight the darkness.”
That last one was especially confusing to me. “Oppose the darkness and its works.” Okay, what exactly did that entail? I’d tried to do some research on the topic shortly after being reborn, but I’m not exactly a trained academic. In some stories I’d managed to google up, the darkness was represented as a dragon. A literal one of the fire-breathing and stealing your gold variety. In others, it was a metaphor for evil itself, and its works were crime and sin. The old faith considered a representation of the devil himself.
Did that mean I should start attending an old faith church? I hoped not. I found sitting in pews very uncomfortable. My grandmother had been a devout believer in the old faith and had me and my sisters there every Sunday morning and Wednesday night. The discomfort and the boredom of the sermons had driven me batty, which in turn caused me to drive her batty whenever it was time for her to gather up the family. Heh, I think she’d have cracked her dentures if she’d lived long enough to learn I was the new Paladin.
Man, I missed that old lady. She was tough, but she was fair. And she loved me fiercely. Unconditional love isn’t something we all deserve, so we ought to appreciate it whenever we have it in our lives. Nothing lasts forever.
The Paramount’s lobby was filled with old posters, a functioning popcorn maker, an abandoned old ticket stand, and more dead bodies than I had ever seen gathered in one place. Blood was sprayed everywhere. The walls, the ceiling, the popcorn(!), you name it, there was ichor clotting on it. The bodies themselves had been sliced apart: you could tell by the lack of tearing on any of the exposed skin. Something sharp, and I mean Kurosawa sharp, had gone through these poor suckers, and taken them apart.
Instinctively, I turned towards Lucas, and settled into a fighting posture, keeping both him and Vitor within my sight. If these two were planning on ambushing me, I was going to take them down right there and then, their stupid guns be damned.
Lucas frowned and stared at me with narrowed eyes after my change in body language. He was a big man and comfortable with using violence to get whatever he wanted. A guy like that was used to being in control of whatever situation he found himself in and did not take kindly to being challenged. I wondered how he’d take to being defenestrated if he didn’t get the hell out of my way.
Vitor sucked in his cheeks and gave a cocky little laugh. He didn’t even reach for his piece, he just barreled forward into my personal space, that confident he could take me. It really bothered me that a fellow null could be that insistent on having his way through violence. The smirk dropped from his face quickly when I backhanded him into the ticket counter, ten feet away. He smashed against it gracelessly and slowly slid down its glass siding. It reminded me of a slug oozing down a window.
Lucas was a bit more pragmatic than his friend. Rather than trying to beat me up, he just pulled out a nasty looking automatic pistol and tried to shoot me in the leg. It didn’t work of course. A flash of dazzling blue light filled the air. When it faded, the bullets were revealed hovering harmless a few inches away from me. Lucas stared at me, wide-eyed. I didn’t smirk back at him, although I was sorely tempted. I didn’t have to. I made a quick gesture in his direction and his gun fell apart, clattering to the ground in uneven pieces.
Oh, didn’t I mention earlier that I’m like, invincible? If I didn’t, then my apologies for keeping it to myself. I mean, I did say that I was the Paladin, didn’t I? The hero of humanity? The champion of good? The light side of the force? Basically, I smote evil. It was my job to pick fights with the forces of bad. And guess what? It’s not even close to being a fair fight.
Nope, evil can’t smite me back. Build up your little empires of awfulness, your syndicates of crime, your demon worshipping cults of soul warping insanity. Do as many creepy CGI adaptations of Cats the Musical as you like. It didn’t matter. If you were a bad guy and you crossed my sights, the ineffable law of the universe was that I was going to kick your ass.
Deal with it, evil.
“What the hell?” Lucas said, staring at his ruined weapon. I cracked my knuckles and took a step forward. I think I mentioned something a little earlier about defenestration. It was a noun with fourteen letters that described the act of chucking an asshole through a glass window. If Lucas wasn’t familiar with that word then it was time for me to educate him.
Before I got my hands on him though, a door opened and dozens of Vorpals came pouring out, each wielding heat and pointing it in my direction. Some of them were doing that literally; fireballs floated above their hands, waiting to be flung at me. Outwardly, I scowled. Inwardly, I was a little impressed. The Vorpal Blades must have been a bigger deal than I realized if they had some magic users in their ranks. Spell slingers didn’t come cheap.
Irritated, I held my hands up and stepped away from Lucas. It wasn’t that I felt threatened or in any sort of danger. Hell, I relished the idea of throwing down with these goons. The problem was that Lucas would have been caught in the crossfire, and although I knew he was a total scumbag, I didn’t want the weight of his life hanging on my neck. Getting someone killed, even a piece of trash like him, wasn’t worth it, not if it could be prevented.
I know, it’s old fashioned. Ridiculously so. But I wasn’t a soldier or a cop. Since I couldn’t be killed, I didn’t feel like I had the right to kill unless it was an extreme circumstance. People can change, they really can. But only as long as they were alive and had the chance. Once you permanently turned their lights off, that was forever, based on a choice that you made, not them.
I just didn’t want that responsibility. I’m not a god.
The Vorpals continued pointing their weapons at me, and I continued standing there with my hands held up. No one said anything. I think they were waiting to get their directions from Lucas. But he just kept staring at me, not saying a word.
I almost felt bad for him. You can get very comfortable being the biggest fish in your little pond. Comfortable to the point of taking it for granted. Lucas was a null like most of us, but he was also big and strong, and he had a sharp mind behind that thick forehead. He was used to getting the best of others and dominating the room. Guys like him didn’t like being reminded that in the greater scheme of things: they were nobody. It popped the bubble that was their sad little illusion of control.
“This is already taking longer than I wanted it to,” said a woman’s lilting voice. “I’m getting bored.” She dragged out the vowel in the word, pronouncing it boooooored.
“Boss. I’m sorry, he turned on us. I was just trying to get him under control—” Lucas began, true fear finally showing on his face. That was something. I thought Lucas was harder than that. The leader of the Vorpal Blades must have been a scary woman, indeed, to draw that level of respect from him.
“Kind of looked like you were trying to shoot him,” his boss drawled as she stepped into view. She was taller than most women I’d seen, just a little under my height of six feet. Her black hair was cut short and spikey, and she wore a black and red suit like the rest of her gang. What set her apart was the scabbarded sword she carried casually in her left hand. There was something…off about it. Something bad. I really didn’t like the aura that permeated from it. The woman didn’t seem to notice.
She strutted over to Lucas and gave him a gentle pat on his cheek. “If I said I wanted him clipped, I’d have told you to clip him. I would have said exactly these words: If he doesn’t come willingly, clip him and drag him here. But I didn’t saaaaay that. I love you, Lucas. You’re ambitious and you have initiative. But be sure you don’t show too much initiative. It might get you in trouble one day.”
Lucas stuttered out an apology, and that seemed to appease her. She told him to think nothing of it, that they’d been friends for years and that mistakes happen, so don’t worry about it. As she spoke, he began to visibly relax. That was when Vitor came limping over, trying to beg for her forgiveness as well. It didn’t end nearly as well for him.
The woman frowned and made a casual thrusting motion with her sheathed sword that connected with Vitor’s chest and sent him flying through the air even faster than I had. This time, he didn’t just land on the ticket counting booth, he flew through the glass barrier and smashed into its back wall.
A perfect example of defenestration.
The woman turned towards me and smiled. And suddenly it seemed like we were the only two people in the room. I wish I could say this was a classical romcom moment of meet cute, where I first met the woman of my dreams. She was pretty enough. But it wasn’t even close to something as pleasant as that. For the first time since I was handed the title of Paladin, I felt like I was in the presence of someone who could legitimately cause me physical harm. That took a moment to process.
It was that damn sword. Just being near it felt nauseating, and the fact that it didn’t bother her, and that she clearly was drawing strength from it, marked her as being something more than human. Something to be wary of.
That sort of thing killed any romantic interest on my part.
Whatever she saw in me during our little stare down seemed to please her. She snapped her fingers twice, and all her goons put aside their weapons and spells. A few of them, covered in plastic wrap that had been pulled over their clothes, began dragging all the bodies into a messy pile in the center of the room. They then searched through them, carefully, removing wallets and other valuables, collecting whatever they found into a large plastic bag
Once all of that had been sorted, another group came in and began sloshing the bodies with some nasty-smelling chemicals poured from unmarked cannisters. After that, one of the fireball flingers from earlier stepped forward and muttered an incantation. The corpses began burning at once. But rather than letting the flames rage out of control and ravage the building, he contained them through force of will, forcing them to remain on the bodies and concentrated their intensity. This, combined with whatever that liquid had been, caused the bodies to disintegrate.
Just like that, a few dozen lives vanished into the air, removed from this world so thoroughly that it was as though they’d never even existed. It was a crazy concept for me to wrap my head around. Meanwhile, they kept spraying that chemical over the blood stains, and burning them away. Utterly destroying all the evidence of the killings.
Was this some sort of institutional culling? Were the Vorpal Blades trimming the fat from their organization? Was this some drug dealer variation of the Night of The Long Knives? If that was so, then what the hell did they want with me? I was the Paladin. Not only did I not approve of wanton murder, but I was also likely to kick up a fuss and cause them some trouble. Nothing about this made any sense.
“The law keeps necromancers on their payroll,” the woman said, as she stood beside me, watching the burners doing their work. “You have to get rid of every trace of a corpse or they could call a soul up for testimony. It’s a hassle.”
I glared at her. “If killing people is such a hassle then maybe you should do less of it.”
She shrugged at me with a wry little grin.
“You’re not wrong. But don’t blame me for this. These were my puppies. My pride and joy. And then some awful thing came along and put them all to sleep.”
“You expect me to believe that?” I said doubtfully. “You Vorpals are a pack of remorseless psychos. I’d say you’re just as likely to turn on each other as you would be against anyone else.” I jerked my head emphatically in the direction of Vitor, who was being carried senselessly to a back exit. The woman laughed warmly at my words; it wasn’t an unpleasant sound. Kind of cheerful and relaxed. It was hard to reconcile that laugh with the fact that it was coming from a murdering gangster.
“Oh, I knew I was right to come to you,” she said. “Didn’t want to at first, kind of questioned myself for sending Lucas and Vit, but no, I was right to do it. No one this judgmental about a few dead nobodies is going to let the issue slide.”
“What are you on about?” I asked her. “You seriously mean for me to believe this had nothing to do with you?”
“Exactly that, Mister Paladin. Sir Knight. Whatever. We were attacked. Didn’t provoke it or anything. This place had nothing to do with our commercial interests. It’s a place of healing.”
She gestured for me to walk with her. Not knowing what else to do, I followed her as she led me through room after room. She hadn’t been lying. The theater rooms of the Paramount had been converted into a makeshift hospital. Beds and medical equipment were lined up in neat rows, next to outdated but functional medical machinery.
I didn’t recognize half the stuff I saw, but what bits I did were straight out of Pre-rising medical dramas. The kinds of things people had to rely on before they could get their illnesses healed instantly through magic.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “Where’d you find all this junk?”
“It’s easy to collect when you know what you’re looking for,” the woman said.
I stared at her in confusion. “What’s the point, though? There’s no sickness that magic can’t heal.”
She laughed again, but this time there was a hard edge of mockery behind those joyful tones. “Oh, you are adorable. No, dear, magic doesn’t solve everything for everyone. That’s only for the Bluebloods and those they favor. The rest of the little nulls either go into insurmountable debt to pay for their treatments, or they can piss off and die in the street like animals. The medical industry in this country is a real scam.”
I opened my mouth to argue with her, then clamped it shut. I was being stupid. For the poor, it could be a nightmare getting treatment in this country before the rising happened. Now, with the class system firmly in place, if you were a null without the resources to pay for it, you weren’t even worth considering. Wizards cared about prestige, not people. Whatever the Vorpals charged for their services, it would be a pittance compared to what the mages would demand.
That begged the question: who would want to turn a medical clinic into a house of slaughter?
It looked like I was going to have to find out.

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• Late Bloomer by Mazy Eddings, narrated by Ellie Gossage - Amazon - (FF, contemporary, rivals to lovers, forced proximity, opposites attract, grumpy/sunshine, neurodivergent rep, lottery winner buys a flower farm to get away from it all, only one bed ) - 9 hrs 32 min

I (30F) started seeing my boyfriend (35M) in October and we started dating exclusively right away. I was in between places at first and moved into a condo at the start of February. He's been staying with me since February and we live together now even though he hasn't "officially" moved in.
He's what you could consider a bad boy. I know he has a past, and him and the friends he grew up with have criminal history. He told me right away he has a bar ban on his ID and he also has a suspended driver's license. The driver's license was due to a drinking and driving situation and the bar ban was due to his gang associations / he was arrested for possession. I, on the other hand, am a law abiding citizen with a corporate job and am kind of a nerd. We joke about how we're like Yin and Yang, generally opposites in everything, yet somehow we get along so well.
He's been an amazing boyfriend most of the time - caring, loving, supportive. We are friends first and have a great sex life. He puts me first and is trying to live a more steady lifestyle, he hasn't gone out with friends in months and has made a huge change for the better since I've known him (with what he wants in life, his goals and less partying and more serious about careehealth).
The problem is his behavior sometimes reflects a different lifestyle than how I live. He used to be a party type guy that hung out with a rough crowd. He got into a lot of bar fights and has been in trouble with the law. These situations would just never happen in my life. He's quick to anger and it's not just being annoyed, it's more serious. It started out as texting and calling me when he's been drinking and now that he lives with me, it's in person and it's kind of scary. When we first started dating he would start a fight with me over text and keep texting and calling all night - usually accusing me of cheating or talking to guys. I could just turn my phone on silent and go to sleep, and he would apologize in the morning.
A few weekends ago, we had some drinks and a date night at home. It was amazing and I went to bed late at like 2am, he never did though. I woke up in the morning and he was agitated, he had kept drinking even though it was the next morning. He would come stand over me in bed with his hands propping him up over top of me and looked at me not in a loving way, but very dominant. I went to go shower and he came in and stood in front of the water and peed on me, I told him not to and he just said no it's happening. And then I was in the closet about to get dressed and I heard a bang, he threw his luggage bag at me.. Thankfully it hit the wall and not me.
Then a male coworker messaged me asking how my date night was... He was already in a mood and that set him off again. He went through my Teams messages with him and was saying I shouldn't tell him anything about my life outside of work. I tried explaining to him it was also a friendly opener to asking me a question about work on the weekend and that I didn't think it would be a big deal. "Are you fucking stupid?" he said, and he's never spoken to me like that before. He made me drop him off at home when I left to go see a friend. I had some drinks with my friend and brought home the remaining drinks home. My boyfriend and I were texting all day. He eventually calmed down and seemed to be back to normal. He just said that he will get jealous but that he doesn't want to fight.
That night he came over again and we had a normal evening just at home talking and watching tv. He did have a couple drinks with me, but it was happy/normal and we had sex. After though, he suddenly wanted to go home again. He also wanted me to book him an Uber. I just tried convincing him to go to bed and that I'd drive him the next day. I went to lay down in bed and he was yelling at me, "Book me an Uber!! Now!" and he then punched the bed beside me. I was scared, so I booked his Uber and he left. He blocked me on all socials and my number that night.
The next morning, I was unblocked. I sent him a text saying I can't believe you did that, we need to talk about it. And he just said he was going to come get his remaining things. He basically blamed all the behavior on my coworker asking about our date. "I want to live my life not worrying about my girlfriend talking to men". I tried to bring up punching the bed again, and he said "Yah sure I slapped the bed to get your attention, you wanna make a problem out of my aggression I slapped the bed so what. You're talking to med outside of work about me, go fuck yourself. Breach of trust." We talked over text back and forth a bit, and I tried to be understanding about the coworker thing. But I can't get over the punching the bed thing.
Last weekend, I had a full day of courses Saturday and Sunday so we didn't plan much and we had been good all week. The Friday I was at work and he was at my place waiting for me, that afternoon he told me he was meeting friends for lunch. Then he had them over at my place (he never asked but I was okay with it). Apparently, one of his friends was asking about me and it set him off. He made his friends leave and I got there and we tried to just relax and have a chill night, he had some drinks left over so we had a few and I was ready to go to bed around 11. He was not ready to go to bed yet though, he wanted sex but he was not really able to perform so it just ended up being an hour with of making out and kind of gross pastey make out and him licking my face. It kept him happy to continue but when I tried to stop and go to sleep he got agitated. For hours he kept turning on the light and waking me up to get mad at me about the coworker thing, his friend asking about me.. It was 3am and I was begging for him to let me sleep. He got mad and threw the mattress off the bed and screamed at my telling me to run, I froze and he shook the mattress again and went to the fridge and threw out all the food. I eventually got to bed and so did he.
The next morning I went to my course, exhausted. He slept in and cleaned up after himself and apologized over text. He just said he has demons. I talked to him on the phone during my lunch break and we seemed to come to a consensus that that wasn't okay, and it wasn’t going to happen again. We were good again all this past week.
This weekend we made plans to just relax, just a couple drinks and a movie night. We made a really cute fort and I had my dog this weekend so we were at the dog park during the day and had a really fun relaxing night. I was ready for bed, and he started dismantling the fort to help me make the bed. He seemed agitated again, and was like throwing the pillows and bedding kind of rough and right beside my dog. I told him he was scaring me and he looked at my with these wild eyes and told me not to start that. He again stayed up while I tried to sleep and was agitated but generally left me alone. I was just scared at this point because of the last few weekends, I texted one his friends girlfriends and told her what happened (I didn't want to tell my friends, because I know if they all this they wouldn't be supportive of our relationship.) and asked her to ask her boyfriend to call him. He did, and my boyfriend calmed down on the phone with his friend. So I went out to the living room where he was and told him he was scaring me. He lost it. His face was terrifying, he yelling at me saying "Are you trying to get me in a pinch?". I went to bed again.
The next morning, we kind of talked about it but he was not apologetic at all. He told me he didn't take any accountability for last night because he did nothing wrong. He was using this rhetoric that was very isolating and manipulative, I think. He said a lot of things, so I’m trying to keep it in order but there was a lot.
When I told him that I texted his friends girlfriend he called me an idiot. He kept threatening to end things if I couldn't get over the last few weekends. He said that he doesn’t trust me now. He said that the girl I texted isn't my friend and doesn't care about me. And how could I tell them that because now they're going to all talk about him and hurt his rep. He said he does everything for me and is my #1 supporter. He said he did nothing wrong and I was just being stupid and crying for no reason, and that he's seen it before, "that whole crying help me help shit gets the cops called". He said that before he knew I told his friends girlfriend, he called another friend about said guy friend that he was calling late night asking about me and that he was going to fight him the next time he saw him. I told him I was just scared and didn't know what to do, and he said "are you retarded?" and I almost gave up on the conversation at that point, I looked down at my phone and was just like, we don’t need to speak to each other like that. He went off saying, "oh who are you about to call now? You gunna call someone every time I do something? Oh I said a bad word better call someone.". The whole time we were talking about it, he looked like a gangster. He looked at me with these eyes and face like, more than just anger. It made me freeze to see him looking at me like that. And he said, "I'm a serious guy".
I was feeling terrible at this point, I apologized and told him I was just scared and I didn't know what to do. He said that we shouldn't drink together and calmed down and hugged me. He wanted to stay and cuddle on the couch and talk more later. So now it's the next morning, I sat here typing this all out and he woke up, we made lunch and apologized and said we don’t want to fight and hugged. He's a great guy when he's sober, but is he too dangerous for me? I know it all sounds really bad, but there are also so many good parts about our relationship.
TLDR; My boyfriends from a rough crowd and bringing his baggage into my normal life, can he change?
I’ve added some screenshots here https://imgur.com/a/39I1z2q And then some of the funny shit he says https://imgur.com/a/VIMJ5I2